Choosing a Side
by Satipheen
Summary: "A common enemy unites even the oldest of foes." He didn't like her and he couldn't trust her. And now he can't get rid of her. One of them was going to end up killing the other or maybe something entirely different would happen instead…Caspian/OC Set during Prince Caspian. Movie-verse. No Suspian.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer for this story; I own nothing from C . S . Lewis's wonderful work that you recognise.

* * *

**Choosing a Side**

"A common enemy unites even the oldest of foes." He didn't like her and he couldn't trust her. And now he can't get rid of her. One of them was going to end up killing the other or maybe something entirely different would happen instead…Caspian/OC Set during Prince Caspian. Movie-verse. No Suspian.

**Chapter I**

"And when the stars align just so as you will see tonight it leads to a configuration called The _Royal Prince who prefers to gaze out windows than pay attention to his lessons – _Caspian!"

"Hm? – What Professor?"

"Indeed," Professor Cornelius agreed as he gazed sternly at Caspian over his half-moon glasses.

Caspian graced his Professor with a sheepish expression.

"What has you so distracted this morning?" the Professor asked as he began to tidy away the charts and papers he had laid out on the table before them.

"Are lessons over?" Caspian exclaimed eagerly, already getting to his feet.

Professor Cornelius gave a snort of amusement shaking his head fondly, "it seems an impossible task to get you to concentrate on anything this morning," the Professor chided lightly, laughter gentling his admonishing tone.

"I am sorry Professor," Caspian began apologising before his gaze flitted once more to the open window as it had been doing all morning.

Immediately Caspian's face lit up as his eyes landed on a long-awaited for sight. He grinned suddenly and the Professor rolled his eyes as a fond smile grew beneath his beard.

"I presume the reason for your distraction has arrived," Professor Cornelius deduced wryly as the sound of approaching hoof-beats upon the cobbled stone reached his ears.

Caspian barely seemed to hear his Professor's words though as he raced to half-lean out the open window.

Caspian gave a loud holler as he waved his arm enthusiastically in greeting.

"Your uncle would be displeased if he saw you behaving thus," Professor Cornelius scolded weakly with no conviction, his grin widening as he saw the utter elation on Caspian's face.

And as the reciprocating holler to Caspian's reached Professor Cornelius' ears the reason for his young prince's distraction that morning became only too clear.

"She's here," Caspian announced needlessly as he jumped away from the window already striding across the flagstones towards the door and through it.

"I hope the wait was worth it," Professor Cornelius called, as he replaced the stoppers to a few pots of ink.

There was a split second before the beaming grin and dark head of hair peeked back into the room, "it always is," Caspian replied before he disappeared once more.

…

Caspian raced down the familiar winding staircases, his footsteps echoing off the cold stone.

He expertly dodged past figures who gave surprised cries as their young prince sprinted past them unapologetically.

Caspian skidded to a halt, panting slightly as he finally reached the courtyard, his blinding grin never having faltered in its intensity during his mad dash.

Her chestnut hair gleamed in the sunshine as she swung herself effortlessly down from her horse.

Her olive skin was spattered with mud and Caspian laughed as he approached and she tried failingly to clean her stained tunic.

She looked up ruefully at the young prince, "the ford did not grant me easy passing today," she explained before sweeping into an unnecessary deep courtesy.

"I can see that," Caspian replied with a chuckle as she straightened and tried to unsuccessfully clean a smudged streak of her cheekbone.

She rolled her quicksilver eyes skyward as Caspian's gaze flitted across her form searchingly.

She gave a sudden loud blast of laughter as she caught his gaze, "yes I've brought it," she assured him.

A slight twinge of colour touched Caspian's cheeks as he grinned apologetically, "I was just making sure you hadn't injured yourself crossing the ford," Caspian argued feebly.

"Uhuh," she agreed, arching a circumspect dark brow as she turned back to the russet mare she had dismounted.

Caspian edged forward eagerly just as she slid the carefully bound package from her saddlebags.

She chuckled at the prince's enthusiasm as she balanced the package in the palm of one hand, untying the leather tethers with the other.

Caspian gasped sharply in surprise as the possession within was revealed.

The silver gleamed in the sunshine, shafts of light reflecting into his eyes.

His fingertips ghosted over the metal as a proud smile spread across her face and her cheeks flushed.

"Perfectly balanced in every way," she said softly, her silver eyes almost sparkling like the metal in her hands.

Caspian laughed almost breathlessly, "you're the best blacksmith in all of Narnia Alaya!" he exclaimed jovially.

Alaya laughed, looking suddenly abashed as she tugged at her heavy auburn braid, "you asked for a sword tempered and true and I gave you my best work," she murmured, offering the hilt to Caspian.

Caspian grasped the pommel tightly before he arched it through the air as quick as a flash of lightning.

"Tis surely a blade to be marvelled at."

Both Caspian and Alaya's heads snapped around as Professor Cornelius approached them with a fatherly smile.

Caspian held out the sword for his tutor's closer inspection, marvelling at the way the blade seemed to respond to every slight movement of his wrist.

"It is fine work Alaya. Something undoubtedly to be proud of," Professor Cornelius praised warmly.

Alaya ducked her head, smiling a little shyly under the compliments, the blush suffusing her cheeks darkening.

"Well…" Alaya began, "I can't take all the credit – Dar helped me out."

"I'm sure Dar would agree that you – as usual – are the master craftsman or, pardon – crafts_woman. _Your husband must be very proud of having such a talented wife," Professor Cornelius responded. Caspian meanwhile had become entirely engrossed in mimicking a few simple parries with his new blade.

Alaya laughed heartily at the Professor's words, "Aye Dar is very good. There aren't very many men who would be…_comfortable _shall we say with their wives as the main breadwinner of the family. But he knows that blacksmithing is my talent and my passion and he would never force me to give it up, no matter what the old biddies of the village may say."

Professor Cornelius chuckled before both their gazes fell on Caspian as he executed a complicated parry to perfection.

The young prince allowed himself a small smile of victory as he tossed the blade lightly in his palm to readjust his grip.

"He grows better each day," Alaya commented lightly, watching as Caspian moved fluidly across the flagstones like a deadly shadow beneath the morning sun.

"Indeed," Professor Cornelius agreed, his eyes filled with bursting pride as Caspian drifted further away from them to spar with an imaginary opponent.

"The blade truly is fitting..." Professor Cornelius began before his voice dropped to a low whisper, "for a King."

Alaya's quicksilver eyes sharpened to two flint points, "his Aunt grows nearer to her birth date?"

The Professor's meaningful gaze slid to Alaya for a moment, "the time grows near," he confirmed.

Alaya discreetly glanced over her shoulder as Caspian having defeated one invisible opponent moved onto his next.

"It seems to me too risky to wait until his aunt has given birth. We need to get Caspian away _now,_" Alaya stated frankly.

The Professor heaved a weighted sigh as he raised his chin, "and what if his Aunt gives birth to a daughter? – Caspian will have thrown away his title for nothing. Miraz will not make his move until he has secured a line of succession with the birth of a son."

Alaya scoffed quietly, her eyes narrowing, "you gamble with the boy's life," she stated vehemently in a hushed whisper.

The professor spluttered for a moment, his face going quite red before he recovered himself. Both he and Alaya glanced about themselves making sure they were still discreet.

Caspian was now engaged with a few regular soldiers who had stopped to comment on his fine new blade.

The Professor nodded curtly towards the inner castle and with a measured breath Alaya nodded her consent and they both set off.

Silence reigned dominant until they had reached the safety of the Professor's chambers where he locked and bolted the door after checking the passageway was quite empty.

Once inside the Professor whirled fiercely to face the blacksmith.

Alaya stood waiting and ready with her arms folded across her torso for the onslaught.

"How dare you accuse me of not having Caspian's best interests at heart," Professor Cornelius said in a fierce dangerous tone.

Alaya would almost cower under the ferocity of the usually agreeable tutor's demeanour except for one thing. In the Professor's bright blue eyes shone the undeniable love for a prince that he had raised and taught from a young boy.

Alaya dropped her defensive, stubborn stance as she held up a placating hand.

"My apologies Professor," she said sincerely, "my words were as inaccurate as they were rash and unthinking."

The ferocity bled away from the Professor's stance leaving behind the familiar and grandfatherly old tutor. The lines of worry settled heavily upon the weathered face as he hobbled over to a nearby chair and dropped himself heavily into it.

"Nay Alaya, I know you meant no offence," he responded, rubbing a tired hand across his brow, "as the time grows nearer tempers become more frayed. I confess to having doubted myself these past months."

Alaya smiled gently as she ambled over to perch herself on the desk beside the old tutor.

"Have you told him yet?" she inquired quietly.

The Professor looked up at her, the answer clear in his eyes.

Alaya blew out a long breath, gentle reproach evident in her gaze.

"It is unwise for Caspian not to know of his Uncle's crimes and what his own true purpose is," Alaya advised sagely.

The Professor nodded in agreement, "I thought to spare the boy some pain for a while longer. I did not wish for his first act as king to be executing his uncle for killing his father. And as for the other matter there is time yet for Caspian to be told."

Alaya hopped lightly off the desk, wandering over to the window that was still propped open letting a cool breeze with the sounds of the outer courtyards enter the room.

Alaya's grey eyes watched Caspian as he laughed and joked with some Telmarine soldiers and her brow furrowed.

"You truly believe he is the one to save us? – To restore Narnia back to the true Narnians?" she questioned.

"Completely," Professor Cornelius answered without a shadow of doubt.

A smile quirked the corners of her lips for a moment as she continued to watch Caspian intently.

"If his Aunt does give birth to a son then what?"

Professor Cornelius took a deep breath, his expression very grave.

"I truly believe that Miraz will have Caspian killed the same night," Professor Cornelius replied grimly as he fixed the blacksmith with a candid stare.

Alaya's eyes widened in horror as she whipped around, "his own nephew?!"

The Professor scoffed scathingly, "you forget Alaya he killed his own brother!"

Alaya turned to look once more towards the young prince that was prophesised to lead them to victory and peace.

"Just like he killed my mother then," she whispered quietly.

Cornelius sent the blacksmith a sympathetic look as Alaya stubbornly sniffed back her tears before turning to Cornelius determinedly.

"Then I stand firm in my decision. If you are convinced that Miraz would have Caspian killed if his wife gave him a son then we cannot delay – we must get Caspian away from the castle as soon as possible!"

Professor Cornelius sent Alaya a stern look, "and if Lady Prunaprismia gives birth to a daughter, Caspian will have made himself an outcast for no reason."

Alaya shook her head firmly, "even if Caspian's aunt does birth a daughter – Caspian by royal decree can lawfully take the throne by the end of the year on his 18th birthday. Do you really think Miraz will let him live long enough to see that day?"

"We have waited too long for this to throw it away now on reckless decisions," the Professor warned.

Alaya paced the length of the room, tugging worriedly at her braid.

She stopped in front of the Professor, looking to him imploringly, "let me take him to forests Cornelius – he will be safe there. The loyal Narnians will protect – "

"No," Cornelius cut across her firmly.

"Why?!" Alaya cried, throwing her hands up in the air, "if Caspian is meant to be the one to save us from this Telmarine tyranny then why did the council decide all those moons ago to let him be raised here in this castle – to grow up a spoilt Telmarine prince?!"

Cornelius stood suddenly, his fury rising like a sudden storm but he did not unleash it. Instead the old tutor's look gentled to one of understanding. He approached the blacksmith until he stood before her and placed his hands on her slumped shoulders.

Alaya looked up, tears pearling her eyes as she gazed at the Professor searchingly.

"My mother was on that council, you decided in her favour. But I…I don't _understand – why?!_" Alaya whispered quietly, her voice slightly thick with tears.

Cornelius squeezed her shoulders in a comforting gesture as he held her gaze steadily.

"On the eve of Caspian's birth the centaurs came out of hiding – it was quite the occasion given the centaurs hadn't been seen since the Telmarines had invaded and conquered Narnia. But a gathering was held that night deep in the forest and the centaurs told how on the next night a prince would be born that would bring peace. Naturally we all assumed somehow they meant a Narnian prince. However when the next night came and went, the only news that reached us came from your mother as she fled the castle; a Telmarine prince had been born," Professor Cornelius chuckled ruefully as he released his grip on Alaya's shoulders, ambling around the room. His blue eyes behind his spectacles became lost and misty in memory as he tugged thoughtfully at his white beard.

"Your mother was a Narnian; this you know. But that night the Narnians called her a traitor and worse. She tried to tell us about this Telmarine prince that had been born, but we would not listen. She was granted no sanctuary in the forest that night and her only choice was to return to the castle."

The Professor sighed as he raised mournful eyes to Alaya.

Alaya returned Cornelius' gaze, her eyes unflinching even as the tears swam in them.

"Miraz had her killed that night," Alaya elaborated in a hollow voice.

Cornelius nodded as he swallowed painfully, no words ever being enough to capture the sorrow he felt over the event.

"But some had believed her," Alaya prompted the Professor.

Cornelius's gaze snapped to Alaya as he gathered himself from the painful regrets, "yes there were some – few mind – who believed your mother when she told them that this Telmarine prince was the one prophesised to save us. Dar's father as you know was one."

Alaya nodded as the Professor continued on, "he was the one who led the raid to rescue you from the castle the night your mother was…" the Professor trailed off.

Alaya swallowed thickly, "he raised me as though I were his own daughter and finally I did become his daughter when I married his son. Dar was always so sweet."

A loving smile crossed Alaya's face then that lessened the bitter tears.

She raised a hand to swipe at the few that clung to her lower lashes stubbornly before she fixed the Professor with a prompting look and Cornelius began speaking again.

"The few that did believe your mother held their own small council that night about what should be done about the Telmarine prince that was to save us."

"You were on that council," Alaya interrupted.

Cornelius nodded, "I was sceptical but it was the first ray of hope after countless years of Telmarine slaughter and tyranny," the Professor explained. "Some wanted to immediately take Caspian to the woods, raise him as one of our own – a loyal Narnian that would one day raise a victorious army to scourge Narnian of the Telmarines."

"My mother disagreed?" Alaya said.

"Immediately," Cornelius responded, "she spoke of how the prophecy said that a prince would bring peace to all people of Narnia. She then asked if we would be willing to kill innocent children and women which of course we all objected to. Your mother then pointed out that even if this Telmarine prince did all we hoped he would and restored Narnia to peace that would still leave the question of the countless Telmarine woman and children that would still remain in Narnia."

"So her solution was to allow…Caspian to grow up a Telmarine prince?" Alaya surmised uncertainly.

"Not quite," Cornelius replied. "Your mother recognised that for there to be peace across all of Narnia the prince would have to be someone that both Telmarines and Narnians would follow. Otherwise the two sides would keep fighting until one or the other was completely wiped out. That would hardly make Caspian the Prince that was meant to bring us peace then."

"It is impossible to find someone both Narnians and Telmarines would follow," Alaya immediately scoffed.

Cornelius chuckled slightly, "I thought so too but I have been teaching Caspian about the old Narnia before his ancestors for years now and Caspian's opinion on the matter has never once wavered…He believes the old Narnians should be able to live in harmony with the Telmarines."

Alaya still remained sceptical, "and how will this work then?" she demanded.

"After the inevitable fight the hostile Telmarines will be defeated by a Narnia led army by Caspian. But then the Telmarines who remain will rally to Caspian because he is their prince and they will honour that. In the same way that the Narnians will honour the prince who fought to give them their freedom. Caspian will do more than free a people, he will bring peace between two warring races as it was foretold he would."

Alaya released a measured breath as she tugged at her bottom lip with her teeth, "it seems an awful lot of expectation to place on a young prince's shoulders," she worried sceptically.

Casually Alaya drifted over to her abandoned post at the window to gaze out into the courtyard below. Caspian was nowhere in sight but she supposed he was off in the soldier barracks conversing with the young guards and showing off.

"I think he can handle it," Cornelius replied confidently, "besides you said so yourself; Caspian would be expected to take to the throne as a King by the end of the year."

"Hmm," Alaya agreed non-committedly, "a _Telmarine _King," she muttered disparagingly under her breath.

"Do not be so quick to judge Alaya," Cornelius berated gently, "you are afterall half Telmarine yourself. Your father was a Telmarine and he…"

"Abandoned me," Alaya finished sharply, her eyes like striking flint.

Cornelius sighed heavily, "you do not know that for certain Alaya," he chided gently, "Miraz sent…"

"Sent my father and six others off to explore the unknown Eastern seas and they never returned," Alaya concluded scathingly, "if you ask me my father saw his opportunity and ran."

Cornelius sighed, "I cannot speak to your father's character for I did not know him. But I did know your mother and she would not have given her heart to a man who would so easily abandon his family. And if I may speak to circumstances of which my knowledge is limited. I doubt your father knew how badly things would deteriorate after he left for his voyage. I doubt he actually believed that Miraz would sink so low as to kill his own brother. Your mother and King Caspian IV were killed on the same night along with anyone else Miraz considered a threat to his rule."

Alaya worked her jaw stubbornly unwilling to concede the Professor's argument but begrudgingly seeing the logic in it.

"All the same," Alaya began, steering the conversation deliberately from conversation about her father and any arguments that might possibly exonerate him for his perceived abandonment, "I found a new family in Dar's."

"It was a most fortunate occurrence," the Professor concurred just as a mischievous smirk began to work its way across Alaya's lips.

"Besides my family is set to grow by one before the year is out," Alaya said meaningfully as her hand drifted casually to her slightly rounded abdomen beneath the loose fitting tunic.

Professor Cornelius's eyes widened in pleasant surprise, almost twinkling, "congratulations Alaya. The Lion has blessed you."

Alaya laughed as she rested her hand more firmly on her slight bump, "and Dar and I are most grateful," she returned before her expression sobered slightly.

"Whether my father abandoned his family in their direst need or not; I do not know. Nor do I know of his fate; be he dead or alive at this moment as my mother is dead. All I do know is I have no other family but the one I have created for myself and I will protect with all I have."

Professor Cornelius smiled proudly at the young expectant mother just as something daring stole into his blue eyes behind their half-moon spectacles.

"It is not the _only _family you have left Alaya," he begun gently.

But the effect on the blacksmith was instantaneous as Alaya's face immediately whitened in anger, her eyes like storm-clouds as she clenched her teeth.

"Professor I almost would not forgive you for that remark but I will if you promise never to bring the subject up again."

Alaya's voice was like ice; unthawing, uncompromising and almost burning in its intensity.

The Professor frowned sadly, "I apologise Alaya. The situation is of course yours to deal with as you see fit as you have been doing so these past seventeen years."

Alaya nodded jerkily, still completely thrown by the Professor's unexpected words.

"We should get back outside," she said stiffly instead before attempting a weak smile, "the guards may be dense but even they will wonder what it is the blacksmith and prince's tutor have so long to talk about."

Professor Cornelius smiled gently, "I will simply tell them it was a matter of disagreement over lessons. Caspian can hardly sit still for a moment when he knows you are coming with some new sword for him."

…

Caspian exited the soldiers' barracks just as he saw Alaya expertly swing herself up into her saddle.

He jogged lightly over, unable to keep the disappointed expression from his face.

"Aren't you staying a while?" he called, "I thought you would want to see your craftsmanship put to good use in beating Telria at a duel."

Alaya chuckled as she patted the smooth mahogany of her horse's neck, "I am afraid I cannot today young prince," she replied regretfully, "all the same though – ensure Telria knows who the better dueller is," she finished wickedly and Caspian grinned in reply.

Caspian waited until Alaya was nothing more than a receding cloud of dust in the distance before he turned, stalking towards the outside training grounds with a sense of purpose and determination.

As Caspian neared the fighting grounds the sounds of clashing steel and pained grunts mingled with battle cries assaulted his ears in a cacophonous disharmony. But Caspian almost grinned at the sound. It was the sound of the fight; the disorganised melee. The trick was trying to find your calm enough to think amongst the shrieks and the clanging.

Caspian smirked sardonically as he approached the nearest fighting pit.

Telria was already fighting and absolutely thrashing her opponent; a man twice her size in stature.

She whirled lightly on her toes avoiding the silver arc of her opponent's sword before she drove her padded shoulder into the man's vulnerable midsection. With a few choice curse words the man fell to the ground with a heavy thump and Telria wasted no time in springing on top of the man, to point her blade at the hollow of his throat as her face hovered inches above his.

A polite smattering of applause sounded, though Caspian nor a notable few others didn't join in.

It was an undeniable fact that Telria was a deadly fighter.

It was also an undeniable fact that Telria was one of the most sly and dirtiest fighters there was. She never fought fair.

Once her opponent reluctantly conceded his defeat Telria once more gained her feet, scanning the spectators for her next opponent.

Her eyes paused slightly on Caspian, her gaze effortlessly distinguishing the new sword Caspian clasped proudly in his hands.

Caspian stepped forward and Telria looked to him expectantly, "my prince?"

Caspian didn't give her an answer but let his actions speak for him as he took up a more substantial position in the fighting pit and raised his newly forged sword.

Telria's gaze lingered for a moment on the silver blade, "I see you have a new sword," she remarked curiously.

"Well observed," Caspian replied, "shall we duel"?

Telria for a moment looked dazed but Caspian remained poised having being fooled one too many times before with by the same trick.

Sure enough just as the spectators were beginning to fidget impatiently while Telria stood, her sword arm down, grasping her sword barely between her fingers she lunged.

Within a second Telria had sprung to life like oil thrown on some dying embers she raged forth like a roaring fire.

He caught her first parry as it glanced off his blade with a singing of metal. He stumbled only slightly when Telria kicked him in the shin as she tried to twist around him and knock him to the ground from behind.

He pushed her back with the momentum from their parried blades as she blocked his attacks.

For a split second Caspian thought he had injured her as she swiftly and nimbly swapped sword arms. It was another talent of Telria's that made her particularly deadly; she could fight just as well with any hand. She held her right arm against her torso gingerly as she gritted her teeth. Caspian realised his mistake just in time.

Her sword cut through the air in a serious of complicated manoeuvres designed to distract rather than injure. As Caspian's eyes were trained on the flashing silver he only managed to glimpse the movement out of the periphery of his vision as her right fist suddenly snapped out to catch his jaw in a disarming punch.

Caspian jerked his head back at the last moment, her knuckles encased in the silver-knuckled gloves she always when fighting grazing his jaw, tearing flesh.

Caspian winced slightly as he staggered back to regain his footing. Telria didn't grant him an inch to recover as she followed swiftly.

Her footwork was impeccable as she almost danced across the ground, her left knee bent slightly as though she were about to twirl through the air. But with an alarming alacrity her ankle deliberately caught his and the pommel of her sword was driven into his ribcage winding him as he fell backwards.

Cries of protest went out as Caspian fell he felt the blinding pain tear across his skull as Telria struck him another blow across the temple with her silver studded gloves.

Caspian instinctively rolled away as his back connected with the ground. He heard and felt the stamp of Telria's booted foot land where his face had been moments before.

Caspian made to get up when he felt himself kicked back down and suddenly there was cool metal pressed against his throat.

He didn't want to open his eyes but he forced himself to, looking into the cool grey eyes that hovered above his own.

"Do you yield?" Telria asked calmly.

Caspian gritted his teeth, "you never fight fair," he answered instead, hating how utterly petulant he sounded. It seemed his old swords master was right; a blade was only as good as the one who wielded it.

"I never lose either," Telria responded, "do you yield my prince?"

"Do I have a choice?" he demanded sardonically.

A smirk ghosted across her lips, "I'd hardly commit regicide merely to prove a point."

"And what point would that be?" Caspian asked sourly, as he dropped his sword, holding up his open palm in the signal for surrender.

Telria noted his surrender with a cool gaze before her eyes snapped to his again, "that I always win."

She was nimbly on her feet within seconds dusting herself off and smoothing a few disarray raven strands of hair back away from her face.

As usual Telria attracted dark looks from the soldiers gathered and as usual she ignored them. Her gaze ghosted over them as though they were mere mist.

Caspian sheathed his sword bitterly, readying to walk away.

"You have a fine sword my prince."

Caspian looked over his shoulder at her.

"It was made for me by a fine blacksmith."

"Alaya," Telria surmised looking to Caspian for unneeded affirmation. Caspian nodded all the same begrudgingly before his own gaze drifted to Telria's long-sword.

"Yours is made by a Calormene smith if I recall?" Caspian said.

"It is," she confirmed.

"Because no honourable Telmarine smith would ever craft a blade for one who fought so dishonourably as you."

The snide remark was muttered somewhere from the side-line of the crowd. Telria tilted her head slightly to the side as though in thought, her gaze never once leaving Caspian's sword.

Caspian almost scoffed at the remark. He would never go out of his way to defend Telria of all people but he had seen other soldiers as high-ranking as Captains copy Telria's moves. At least Telria did not deny that she never fought fairly.

But still amongst most she was generally disliked and loathed and also – though none would ever admit it – feared somewhat.

Most Telmarines sneered at the idea of a female being a soldier but they couldn't deny that as Telria had pointed out to Caspian moments before; _she never lost._

But it then ostracised Telria inevitably; unaccepted by her fellow soldiers, reviled by the women of the court. However none would ever publically shun her knowing the fierce loyalty and closeness she shared with Caspian's uncle; Lord Miraz.

Caspian was snapped from his musings suddenly as Telria's voice rose again, unperturbed by the snide remark, having heard much worse.

"Nearly every smith in the land has offered to craft me a sword," she murmured quietly before her gaze fixed with Caspian's again, "except for Alaya – she refused," Telria finished frankly.

"I can't imagine why," Caspian lied without any real attempt to cover it.

"Hmm," Telria mused thoughtfully, her grey eyes bright, "I can."

* * *

Er; I've started a new story. I really don't know why I do these things to myself but here is a new story even while I currently have another nine in progress.

Hopefully you enjoyed it; if you have time please leave me a review, even if it is only a few words, to let me know if you hated it, loved it or whatever :)!

Thanks for reading!


	2. Chapter 2

_italics - _inner thoughts

_~.~.~italics~.~.~ - _memory

** Choosing a Side**

**Chapter II**

"What have you to report?"

"Professor Cornelius met with the blacksmith Alaya today. They spoke privately in his chamber for some considerable length of time."

Lord Miraz looked over his shoulder, his eyes dark as he considered the new information, "and what was said?"

"I do not know my Lord, my attentions were otherwise diverted," Telria explained regretfully.

"Diverted?" Miraz repeated scathingly.

"My Lord told me to never let Caspian out of my sight. I strive to please my lord by exacting his wishes accordingly."

A faint smirk ghosted across Miraz's lips briefly before he spoke, his voice deceptively careless, "they tell me you beat my nephew today in a duel."

"I never lose my lord," Telria replied immediately without fail.

"Indeed you do not," Miraz agreed meaningfully. "It is a commendable quality; one very hard to find these nearing days."

Telria raised her gaze determinedly, "what must I do to rectify my error?"

Lord Miraz smirked, "find out what was said in the conversation."

…

"Telria?" Professor Cornelius addressed warily as he entered his rooms to find said figure perusing the charts on his desk.

"Professor" Telria murmured softly in greeting as she raised her head.

Professor Cornelius deposited his armful of scrolls on another table as he ambled over to Telria to peer at what she had been engrossed in.

His eyes skimmed over the meticulously etched star charts, the paper yellowed and faded with age. But still the two scrawled names at the top of the identical charts were legible; _Caspian…Telria…_

"I remember you setting us this task," Telria mused, a fond light twinkling softly in her flint eyes.

Despite himself Professor Cornelius felt a mirroring doting smile tug at his lips as he eyed Caspian's untidy impatient scrawl against Telria's neat precise print.

But the Professor shook himself from fond reminiscing as he examined the scene shrewdly. He did not leave star charts from many years ago lie carelessly about his room on a whim. The charts before them now had evidently been tucked away somewhere secure for treasured memories which meant only one thing.

_Telria had been searching his room_…

The Professor's features hardened as squared his shoulders, tilting his chin upwards. Telria was much taller than him; she had grown just as quickly as Caspian had until they both loomed over him.

"You always were a diligent student Telria," Professor Cornelius commented.

The soft fondness gracing Telria's features vanished almost immediately like smoke as she caught the frosty guardedness in the Professor's tone.

She straightened as well then, bracing her fingertips lightly on the table-top. Her gaze was no longer fond as it studied the star charts.

But all the same her voice was effortlessly warm. She was speaking still as though she hadn't noticed the Professor's suddenly burning glare.

"Diligent but not always so well-behaved as I recall. I am sure you are glad I am your student no longer," she meant the comment to be light-hearted and jesting but the silence in the room was glacial and choked with a hundred unsaid things.

In the end however Professor Cornelius found he couldn't find it in himself to add more bitterness to the air hanging between himself and his former student. Especially not when Telria was clearly making efforts with him. Yes, she had rifled through his rooms but her intentions could still be innocent, the optimistic side of his thoughts reminded him.

"You and Caspian were two mischief makers to be sure," he grumbled, trying to affect a stern tone and failing as the fondness crept into it anyway.

Telria grinned suddenly, her grey eyes brightening to silver for a moment.

"Professor have you seen – "

Both Professor Cornelius and Telria's gazes snapped to the door that had just burst inwards. Caspian halted a few metres into the room, his words dying on his lips as his gaze flickered between Telria and Professor Cornelius.

"Telria," Caspian addressed her stiffly.

Telria merely gave a polite incline of her head in greeting offering her Prince no words.

"What were you looking for Caspian?" Professor Cornelius asked him, renting the tense silence that had fallen.

"Nothing important – it can wait," Caspian muttered vaguely, his narrowed gaze sliding pointedly towards Telria.

Telria gazed frankly back at Caspian, pointedly letting Caspian know she knew the significance of that glance.

"Telria just happened across some old work you did for me when you were both little troublesome pests," Professor Cornelius smiled as he tried again to bridge the frigid divide.

His mind was throwing memories up to him of two dark little heads bent together in serious discussion as they penned their star charts for their Professor.

Begrudgingly Caspian approached the table to examine the contents and a stubborn smirk tugged at one corner of his mouth.

"I remember these," he remarked quietly, his fingertips reaching out to smooth along the tattered edges and faded ink.

"I'd imagine you do; it took you both over a month to get it right," Professor Cornelius teased.

Caspian chuckled and Telria ducked her head to hide her wide grin before looking up again. She instinctively locked eyes with Caspian, rolling her eyes slightly as she directed her look towards their old Professor.

"We were ten I think?" Caspian conjectured, half in defence to Professor Cornelius's words, the fond smile on his lips growing.

"Eleven," Telria immediately corrected with ease.

"Yes eleven," Professor Cornelius agreed, "it was right before Telria…"

The words halted immediately as the tentative light and warming atmosphere fled before it really had a chance to grow. The uncomfortable silence fell once more as their three postures stiffened.

_Right before Telria…_

But none of them said it.

"Was there anything in particular you were looking for Telria?" the Professor began in a neutral tone, "it is not often you grace your old Professor's study with your presence needlessly."

Telria's flinched ever so slightly at the intentional jab but her pose never faltered, her shoulders set in a firm line.

"I come here on Lord Miraz's request," she elaborated.

The temperature in the room dropped a few degrees.

Caspian scoffed audibly and Professor Cornelius' stern gaze flickered to him pointedly before he brought it back to Telria.

"And what does my Lord Miraz want of an old and slow Professor?" he asked smilingly.

Caspian smirked slightly and amusement even tugged at the corners of Telria's lips but her eyes were keen and focused. She would not be distracted from her task of serving her Lord.

"You are neither so old nor slow Professor; you do yourself an injustice," Telria replied coolly.

Professor Cornelius moved around past Telria as he swept together the charts on the table. He was no longer dealing with the little mischievous imp with bright grey eyes that had eagerly waved her star chart under his nose impatiently until he had accepted it. He imagined she had left the parchments out for that purpose; to have him become lost in old memories and forget about who truly stood before him. Because Telria had grown up and though she was still as intelligent; she used her intellect more shrewdly than she once did.

"I cannot imagine what Lord Miraz would want to speak to me about," Professor Cornelius replied as he pointedly handed the charts across the table to Caspian.

Caspian accepted them, throwing a dark look at Telria which she ignored.

But still Professor Cornelius caught Caspian's almost despondent sigh as he returned the charts to their rightful place and his eyes landed on the neat handwriting at the top.

"It is not so much what you would speak to Lord Miraz about than what you speak to _others _about."

Caspian whirled around fiercely, his expression dark, "that is the Professor's own personal affairs," he said sharply.

Telria looked to Caspian calmly, "I am not asking the Professor to divulge to me his every secret," she soothed, "only the contents of the conversation he shared with the blacksmith Alaya this morning."

Caspian scoffed as he rolled his eyes skyward, "is that all?" he shot sarcastically.

"Caspian," Professor Cornelius said warningly while Telria's composure never faltered.

"Alaya and I spoke of Caspian's lessons. Caspian was very distracted this morning when he knew Alaya was bringing his new sword to him today. I wished to stress to Alaya the importance of written lessons as well as sword lessons," Professor Cornelius replied calmly.

A fond smile had ghosted across Telria's lips as she recalled similar occasions when they had been younger and Caspian had been distracted from their lessons. But she wisely didn't voice those memories; the time for fond recollections had truly passed.

Instead she eyed the Professor for a few moments in silence, "so much time to say so little," she mused, her head tilting slightly to the side, "and Alaya left directly afterwards. She usually stays a while, does she not?"

"She had other errands to run before returning to her home and husband," Professor Cornelius replied easily.

"Alaya works from her forge while her husband keeps home," Telria said aloud and the Professor could see the begrudging admiration in Telria's eyes. He knew she respected and admired Alaya and yet Telria also despised Alaya; because Alaya favoured Caspian and had refused to ever forge a sword for Telria.

"Alaya holds an _honourable_ trade," Caspian said meaningfully.

Telria's upper lip stopped short of curling into a sneer as her back straightened even further.

"I am sure," Telria agreed stiffly, "her blades are very fine," she added, the reluctant respect evident in her mumbled words.

"Well if that is all Telria there are other maters I must attend to," Professor Cornelius spoke with an air of finality.

Telria's gaze lingered on the Professor for a moment more in shrewd silence.

"I am sure my uncle is waiting for you to report back," Caspian interrupted.

Telria started slightly as her fingers curled tightly into her palms, "Professor," she muttered in farewell turning sharply on her heel to stride across the floor.

She paused in front of Caspian, bowing respectfully, "my prince," she murmured softly and then she was gone.

…

"Milady," Telria bowed awkwardly, finding her usual calm grace had fled as she rather unceremoniously burst into the rooms.

She was riled and shaken more than she would like to admit from her tense meeting with her old Professor and Caspian and when she had heard the voices she had barrelled on into the room without thinking.

She had been expecting her Lord Miraz, perhaps with his generals but it was not.

Lady Prunaprismia was seated regally with a few ladies of the courts and her hand maidens, a bejewelled elegant hand resting protectively over her rounded stomach.

"Are you looking for my husband?" Lady Prunaprismia inquired sharply.

Hissing whispers behind hands and disapproving looks were passed between the other ladies.

Telria squared her shoulders, feeling the mud and dirt that caked her from her fighting that morning all the more acutely.

She imagined she must look positively wretched beside this cluster of silk-dressed and perfectly groomed ladies of court.

"I am Lady – " Telria began but Lady Prunaprismia did not let her finish.

"He is with Captain Glozelle in the stables."

Telria felt heat suffuse her cheeks but she resisted the urge to rush from the room as she dipped into a respectful courtesy as best she could.

A few simpering murmurs of laughter sounded but Telria ignored them as she straightened and turned to stride from the room.

"Telria," Lady Prunaprismia's call sounded as Telria's hand closed around the door handle.

She turned expectantly.

"Next time knock before you come barging into rooms unannounced."

The laughter was louder this time and little attempt was made to conceal it.

Telria nodded stiffly, forgetting her resolution to be dignified as she tore open the door as quickly as she could and rushed from the room.

…

"I am disappointed Telria…" Lord Miraz's voice was dismissive almost casually bored more than angry or even annoyed.

It tore at Telria more than if he had of actually been displeased with her.

He wasn't even looking at it when he said it. He was running a hand down the strong neck of an ebony stallion, looking the horse over thoughtfully. Captain Glozelle was standing nearby, silent and watchful.

Telria swallowed thickly, "my Lord I _will_ find out. I _would_ have completed my task only the Prince– "

"You know how I hate it when you blame your failures on others Telria."

Miraz was looking at her now, his dark eyes narrowed ever so marginally in warning.

Telria snapped her mouth closed, as she nodded curtly, averting her gaze to the ground, "of course my Lord. My apologies. The blame is mine and it is hence my fault to rectify."

Lord Miraz smiled as he passed, squeezing her shoulder gently, "I have every faith in you Telria. Don't disappoint me again."

…

"I've just checked everything Professor; it doesn't seem like Telria took anything," Caspian spoke over his shoulder as he stood, dusting his hands off.

Professor Cornelius sighed heavily, "I did not think she had," he said.

Caspian ruffled his dark hair as he approached the table where Professor Cornelius was sitting at. Little dust motes drifted past Caspian's shoulders at his movement.

"Do you ever clean in here?" Caspian asked cheekily with a teasing grin. He moved a pile of scrolls and other scraps of parchment so he could perch himself on the edge of the table.

Professor Cornelius huffed as he threw a rueful smirk at the young prince.

"What would be the point when you'll only be back tomorrow for your lessons," Professor Cornelius replied with a smile beneath his white beard.

However the Professor's light expression fell a little melancholic, as shifting some items about his table he unearthed some more yellowed parchment, covered with interspersing neat script and scrawling handwriting.

"What is it?" Caspian looked up from the pile of papers he had been sifting through in his hands.

Professor Cornelius smiled sadly, "old memories," he said dismissively, stowing the papers beneath a heavy tome.

Caspian sighed as he hopped lightly off the desk to stroll towards the bookshelves that lined the Professor's room.

"What do you think she was looking for?" Caspian mused as his eyes scanned over the vast range of books and scrolls, some crumbling with age.

"I suspect anything that shouldn't be there," Professor Cornelius replied as he heaved himself to his feet, ambling over to join Caspian in his perusal of the bookshelves.

Caspian crouched down to examine some books on the bottom shelves that looked relatively dust-free; an anomaly.

He pulled the crimson book with its gold lettering from its slot, straightening once more as the book opened easily in his palms. A frayed leather bookmark lay forgotten against the fragile pages.

Professor Cornelius peered over his half-moon spectacles as his gaze swept over the pages and Caspian's eyes widened slightly in surprise.

"The Kings and Queens of old Narnia. Now what was Telria looking at a book like this for?" Professor Cornelius pondered aloud.

Caspian snapped the book shut with a thud, "causing trouble no doubt," he muttered darkly. "Professor we have to move all the books of the old tales – we can stash them in my chambers; Telria wouldn't dare go in there."

"Caspian, Caspian wait," Professor Cornelius put a stalling hand on Caspian's shoulder. Caspian looked to him expectantly.

"I do not think such an action is necessary," he said gently.

Caspian furrowed his brow, "Professor, Telria will tell my uncle you are still teaching me the old tales. Do you not remember it was _her_ who told him in the first place that made my uncle ban them."

Cornelius sighed as he tugged at his beard, "she was younger then, her intentions were innocent. And your uncle manipulated the affections of a child that looked up to him so he could be kept informed of all I was teaching you."

Caspian begrudgingly accepted Professor Cornelius's words, bending to replace the book.

"But she is not so young now to be blindly manipulated by my uncle," Caspian replied quietly.

Professor Cornelius's expression saddened, "no she is not," he agreed, "and that makes her no longer innocent."

…

The torches were sputtering on their sconces in the wall throwing strange flickering shadows across the walls as Caspian made his way down to supper.

He was late he knew.

He usually preferred to take supper in his own rooms or Professor Cornelius's study but his uncle insisted that he at least show his face in the grand banquet hall sporadically.

_Or else the people really will think you're King Uncle,_ Caspian thought ruefully.

Caspian had never really liked his Uncle Miraz.

Even when his father was alive Caspian recalled only a handful of encounters he had had with his Uncle. Miraz had been hard-faced and had looked down his nose at Caspian then.

However as soon as his father had died his Uncle had swooped down on him like some waiting bird of prey.

And Caspian had found that under his uncle's growing influence that his world had started to narrow.

His father's friends that had always been kind to Caspian and were meant to be returning from their voyage were declared missing by Miraz.

Caspian met fewer and fewer people each day until he became almost ostracised in his own lonely world; the only thing breaking the monotony of his days being his lessons with Professor Cornelius.

Well…until Telria had come along at any length.

Caspian sighed, pushing back that last thought.

It had become all too abundantly clear over the years what his uncle truly wanted; Caspian's throne.

Caspian expected his uncle to challenge him for his throne, contend his right to rule on the basis that Caspian was an unfit king.

His uncle always had thought him too week, too lenient, too…_everything _a king shouldn't be.

It was only as Caspian got older that he realised he would never be the King, Miraz expected him to be, quite simply because Caspian wasn't Miraz. And the only person Miraz thought good enough for the throne was himself.

Caspian swiftly descended the last flight of stairs and almost collided into someone speedily heading in the opposite direction away from the banquet hall.

Caspian righted himself deftly as the other person did likewise.

He looked up into familiar grey eyes and felt the equally familiar mixed feelings of anger and frustration tinged with reluctant sadness well up in him.

Telria stood straight pulling her tunic down firmly. She was dressed as she normally was; in a simple tunic and leggings with boots in drab unnoticeable colours, her hair pulled tightly into her customary braid that trailed down her back. The only hint of affluence about her person was the lean sword at her hip. The black-metalled hilt glinted almost cruelly in the flame-light. It had been a gift from his uncle Caspian knew; a sword crafted by the cleverest smith in Calormen…_but not in Narnia. _Alaya had refused.

"Apologies my prince," Telria murmured, making Caspian drag his gaze back to her grey eyes.

Caspian sketched a brow curiously when he noticed the colour splashed heavily across her cheeks and the slightly harried air that was surrounding her.

She looked disconcerted to say the least.

"What's the matter?" Caspian blurted the words out before he could stop them.

Telria blinked her eyes at him in surprise. She had not expected Caspian to speak to her so soon after the incident that morning.

She opened her mouth and closed it again, locked in some sort of dazed stupor.

"I'm not hungry," she finally managed to say quickly, her gaze flickering towards the banquet hall.

However no sooner had the words left her mouth than Caspian quite clearly heard Telria's stomach rumbling in protest.

Caspian smirked slightly though it wasn't unkind and a sheepish smile crossed Telria's lips.

Caspian glanced into the hall and immediately knew why Telria had been practically sprinting in the opposite direction of food.

The whole situation was rather familiar he thought ruefully.

~.~.~

_Caspian rubbed at his eyes tiredly. They were scratchy with weariness and dry from crying._

_Caspian was sure he would never shed a single tear again because nothing…__nothing__ could ever hurt as much as losing his father had._

_He trudged resignedly towards the banquet hall. He hadn't wanted to go; preferring the solitude of his room where it didn't matter if he let a few tears slip because there was no one there to see him._

_But his Uncle had insisted and there was no one there for Caspian to turn to for help._

_His father was gone. His mother was gone._

_His father's friends who had always doted on Caspian were gone too._

_Even Professor Cornelius couldn't help him, because there was no one for him to appeal to. Only his Uncle. And his Uncle didn't seem to care that Caspian was hurting so._

_He had been walking down the exact same staircase, thinking morosely of the banquet stretching out before him with his head hung low. Suddenly he banged directly into a smaller figure that had been loitering at the end of the staircase in the shadows._

_They both tumbled to the ground._

_Caspian sat up swiftly with a scowl etched on his small features. _

"_Why didn't you move out of the way?" Caspian snapped angrily. He knew it wasn't fair and that he was making unreasonable accusations; his father wouldn't have been pleased with him. But his father was gone now and Caspian felt he had a right to feel perfectly miserable at that moment._

_Round grey eyes the colour of rain puddles gazed back at him fearfully from a dirty skinny face._

"_You should have watched where you were going!" she fired back at him, before sucking in a horrified gasp she clapped her small grubby hands to her mouth._

_Caspian scowled at her, "I'm your Prince you know!" he blurted out, feeling the unreasonable urge to cry suddenly well up as some voice in the back of his head told him he was the King now. His father was dead._

_Caspian raised a hand to scrub at his eyes angrily; he was __not__ going to cry __again_! _And especially not in front of…her!_

_But the tears wouldn't listen and started to leak out of his eyes miserably even though Caspian was sure he wouldn't have been able to produce another tear for a year at least._

_Caspian covered his face with his hands, feeling utterly wretched and miserable and despairing in every way possible._

_Here he was sitting on the cold stone crying in front of some servant girl and his Uncle would still probably scold him for being late to the banquet._

"_I didn't push you __that __hard," the small murmured indignation sounded close by and Caspian peeked at her through his parted fingers, glaring balefully._

_Despite her words she was still looking at him worriedly, chewing on the inside of her cheek._

"_I'm not crying because I fell," he mumbled._

"_Oh." She blinked._

_Caspian rubbed at his eyes again willing the tears back._

"_Your father died, didn't he?" _

_Caspian's head snapped up as he scowled darkly. Who did this girl think she was to talk about his father?!_

_But when Caspian looked up the girl was looking at him with only sympathy. Her grey eyes were still the colour of rain puddles but they somehow seemed warm._

_Caspian merely looked at her._

"_I'm sorry you lost your father," she murmured softly, chewing on her inner cheek again._

_Caspian sniffled back his tears as he blinked at her, feeling his initial anger and frustration bleed away, "it's not your fault," he told her, cleaning away the rest of his tears on his sleeve._

_A sudden loud noise sounded from behind them and the grand banquet doors opened. Light spilled out across the floor and the sound of loud chatter reached them but they remained unseen in their shadowy alcove. The persons entered the great hall and the doors shut once more with a heavy thud._

_She turned back to him, "are you meant to be in there my prince?"_

_Caspian grimaced in response as he nodded regretfully._

"_So am I," she intoned, mirroring his grimace._

_Caspian blinked in surprise, "you?!" he exclaimed tactlessly as his eyes drifted over her filthy appearance._

_A high colour rose in her cheeks as her bottom lip trembled. Caspian feared for a moment she might cry but she didn't. She swallowed thickly and then glared hard at him, "if you weren't my prince I'd hit you for that," she muttered darkly at him._

"_Sorry," Caspian mumbled, "it's just you don't look very much like the ladies of court do."_

_Her glare darkened, "that's because I'm not," she shot back moodily. "They sent me up from the kitchens to collect the dirty plates. I'm small and quick so I don't disturb the high born lords and ladies when I'm getting them."_

"_Oh," Caspian said, "why aren't you in there now then?"_

_She winced as she tugged at a matted strand of ebony hair, "bmcamm thmm all lammmin a mmm."_

"_What?" Caspian said, furrowing his brow, "I can't hear you when you mumble like that."_

_She scowled, cheeks burning redder, "I said because they all laugh at me."_

_She slumped down onto the ground facing Caspian and pulled her bony knees up to her chin. She folded her arms over them, glaring sullenly at Caspian over them._

"_Who do?" Caspian asked dumbly._

_She actually rolled her eyes this time, "the daughters of the high-born ladies," she muttered._

"_Why?"_

_She glared at him again but she almost looked ready to cry as she dipped her head quickly, "they say I'm dirty," she mumbled._

"_But you are," Caspian replied immediately._

_She looked up, grey eyes wide with indignation as she flamed red, "well you try scrubbing floors and washing pots and setting fires all day and try to keep clean!" she cried, tears shining in her eyes._

"_But that's what I meant!" Caspian said, "them calling you dirty is like you calling them clean. They're clean because they do nothing all day – believe me I've had to sit with them; they really do nothing! – and you're dirty because you have to work."_

_She eyed him cautiously._

"_Do you feel better now?" Caspian asked._

_She sniffed, "no."_

_Caspian frowned slightly, "well it's not my job to make you feel better anyway."_

"_I thought you said you were my prince?"_

"_So?"_

"_Don't princes make their subjects happy?"_

_Caspian pursed his lips, reluctantly conceding her point, "what would make you happy then?"_

"_I don't want to go into the banquet hall for all the girls to laugh at me again," she said almost immediately. Her eyes looked hopefully to Caspian, filled with implicit trust._

_Caspian heaved a heavy sigh as he squared his shoulders; he was a Prince…a King in fact and it was his duty to serve his people. His father had taught him that._

"_And I'm hungry," she shot across at him with a mischievous smile as she watched him._

_Caspian frowned again before he got to his feet, brushing himself off. She looked up at him with wide eyes. _

"_Well come on," Caspian prompted her and she quickly scrambled to her feet._

"_You really mean it?" she said incredulously._

"_Yes," Caspian said shortly, beginning to once more climb the stone staircase he had come done just before, "now hurry up."_

_Caspian couldn't help but smile as he glanced back and caught the absolute look of euphoric joy on her face as she trotted after him happily._

"_Thank-you my prince," she sang gleefully._

_~.~.~_

"My prince?"

Caspian was snapped from his memory as the note of concern sounded.

He looked up to see Telria looking at him with those same rain-puddle grey eyes, worry clear in the tense lines of her face.

"I'm fine," Caspian said quickly, "I was just remembering the…"

Caspian's words trailed off. He had been about to say _remember the first time we met – right here._

But he didn't. Because the grubby kitchen scrubber he had collided into at the bottom of the stairs all those years back was practically a different person to whom she had grown up to be. That girl was standing before him now with a sword from his uncle on her hip.

"Nothing," Caspian finished hollowly.

Telria nodded almost imperceptibly and Caspian imagined she knew exactly what he had been remembering, but she also understood that that time had passed. They would never be like that again.

Telria's stomach gave another loud grumble and she wrapped her arm around her waist in an effort to stifle it.

Caspian's gaze flickered to the hall where he could just make out the occupants of the tables nearest the doors.

The ladies of the court sat in all their glorified finery, poised and elegant. The girls Telria had feared as a child had grown into prestigious young women.

Yet they were not matured enough to be above sniggering if Telria happened to walk by them in her dreary clothing. Others would sneer in disgust that someone that had cleaned the scraps of their plates once had been allowed to ascend above her ranks so far to be seated at the same table as them.

"You shouldn't let them bother you Telria," Caspian said quietly, not looking at her.

He didn't want to help her, tried to suppress the urge to do so but he couldn't help but recall their first meeting.

"Tis not a matter of them bothering me but rather I don't want to bother with them my prince," Telria answered coolly.

Caspian's gaze shifted over her. She had gotten much better at controlling her reactions to the taunts.

Caspian sighed as he looked to the ground, grinding his teeth together in frustration, "you cannot not eat anything Telria," he mumbled.

A soft snort of laughter drifted to him, "I have no intention of starving myself either for their sakes."

Caspian looked to her curiously and she only grinned back at him enigmatically.

"Would you care to see my prince?" she asked lightly, mischief dancing in her eyes.

Caspian frowned half-heartedly at her, "why should I trust you now?" he said warily.

He had expected Telria to flinch or drop the subject but her grin never lessened, "because it would make me happy my prince," she murmured softly.

Caspian blinked, his lips parting slightly in shock. _So she was remembering the same thing as me…_Caspian thought.

Caspian wanted to be angry with her for having the audacity to call up old memories and draw on past friendship between them when she knew that things had irrevocably changed by her own doing.

But Caspian couldn't find it in himself to be angry with her, much like he couldn't that first night either.

He sighed instead, conceding defeat and Telria grinned, her grey eyes warm.

Despite himself Caspian felt himself begin to smile as he followed her up the staircase again. It was like glimpsing into the past only this time he was following her.

The nostalgia was just warming through Caspian, thawing his icy anger with her slightly when Telria spoke again, dashing the fragile bridge of temporary peace between them to pieces once more.

"I told you my prince – I always win."

Caspian frowned as she said the words. The kitchen scrubber with eyes like rain-puddles was gone, replaced once more by the woman she had become and who Caspian incidentally despised.

* * *

Thanks to favourites / &amp; / follows; ILovepenguins24 &amp; PhoenixFeatherQueens!


	3. Chapter 3

_~.~.~.~italics~.~.~.~ _\- memory

**Chapter III**

Telria led Caspian to one of the tallest towers in the castle; the one Professor Cornelius used to take them up to see the stars during their night-gazing lessons.

Telria turned, slightly giddy, her eyes bright only for her expression to falter slightly as she smiled tightly.

She could see that Caspian was tense, stoic; the warmth had been leached away from his gaze.

But he wouldn't leave yet; _still stubborn to a fault_ Telria thought with a sad sense of exasperation.

"I didn't know you still came up here," Caspian remarked stiffly.

Telria ambled over to the edge, the slight breeze lifting the wispy strands of her hair that had escaped her practical braid.

"Sometimes," she murmured vaguely, "when I need to think or when I want to see the stars closer."

"Or when you want to spy and report back to my uncle what the Professor is teaching me? – I doubt my uncle would have very little interest in the stars," Caspian sniped bitterly.

Telria's shoulders stiffened as she glanced coolly at him, her composure remaining as infuriatingly ever in control.

_The kitchen scrubber with eyes like rain-puddles would have glared at me…_Caspian thought fleetingly, surprised at the saddened ache he felt at the rumination.

"Do you really think I scale this tower each night to listen to your star-gazing lessons?" Telria asked, something almost genuine in her tone.

"I never said you scaled the tower every night," Caspian muttered stubbornly.

She smirked grimly at him before brushing past him.

Caspian turned, his gaze following her. She bent low near the weathered stones nearest the door and started scrabbling at the lowest one.

Caspian frowned at her, "what _are _you doing?"

She giggled somewhat infuriatingly at that as her nails gained purchase around the stone and she gritted her teeth as she pulled the stone free.

"Do you normally go about weakening the structures of the palace?" he asked airily.

"No – only this tower," she fired back immediately. She shoved the sleeve of her tunic up roughly as her arm dove into the empty space the stone had left.

"Oh." She was still as sharp as ever Caspian mused, a smirk tugging at his lips stubbornly.

"Here it is," she breathed as she pulled free a wooden box. Caspian recognised it immediately.

"So this is where you've hidden it," he remarked, "clever."

She smirked slightly, her cheeks pinking slightly. "I did tell you that you would always be close to it."

"I thought you were only saying that to annoy me."

"Contrary to what you most certainly believe, I do not go out of my way to annoy you my prince."

She opened the lid revealing the contents to the darkening evening sky above them.

Caspian couldn't help but grin as he crouched down beside her, his shoulder brushing hers.

"All still here," she murmured.

Caspian reached out his hand tentatively almost to sieve through the multitude of things.

"Including these," her hand shot out suddenly for a small bulge wrapped tightly in wax paper.

Caspian laughed outright, unable to help it.

"I would have thought they would be all gone by now," he said incredulous.

Telria shrugged sheepishly, "tis no fun eating them by yourself."

She deftly unfurled the paper revealing the glassy little honey-coloured spheres in her palm.

"Narnia may make the best swords but Calormen certainly make the best sweets," she murmured, grinning cheekily.

Caspian found he couldn't be quite so annoyed at the slight as he swiped one of the honey-sugar sweets from her hand and popped it in his mouth.

She mirrored his movements, her grey eyes bright as the almost unbearable sweetness began to melt on their tongues.

Telria recovered the sweets before nestling them back into the box, knocking aside a few papers to do so.

Caspian's hand moved, his fingers delving to pull the familiar frayed leather bookmark with a crudely stitched _'C'_ on it.

She snorted slightly in amusement as he unveiled it, "if you are going to mock my sewing skills again my prince I will remind you that I was only nine at the time when I made it."

Caspian fingered the strap contemplatively, remembering only too clearly where he had seen its partner.

"I don't see yours here," Caspian remarked coolly, feeling the familiar anger and sting of betrayal at being so evidently manipulated once again.

Telria noted the coolness in Caspian's tone and her spine straightened slightly, "no, I seem to have misplaced it," she murmured quietly, not looking at him.

"In one of Professor Cornelius' books," Caspian finished for her as he replaced the bookmark back to their box of childhood memories.

Telria shut it almost immediately; "oh?" she tried to sound nonchalant but didn't quite manage it.

"A book of the old tales," Caspian added, his voice dropping another few degrees.

Telria moved deftly to replace the box to its hiding place. "If you ever need it it's the second stone to the right of the door," she told him over her shoulder as she hefted the stone back into place.

"Did you leave your bookmark in that particular book as a warning?"

"I don't know what you mean," Telria murmured quickly as she stood dusting herself off and Caspian stood too.

"Telria, don't lie to my face," Caspian said quietly.

Telria froze, a sad smile ghosted across her lips, "I never could lie to you with much success my prince."

"And yet it's never stopped you from doing it," Caspian replied.

Telria sighed heavily, "the Professor should not be teaching you the old tales, your Uncle has forbidden them. I merely left the bookmark there as a reminder. Believe me when I say it would give me no pleasure to have to tell your Uncle his wishes are being disobeyed."

"But you _would_ still tell my uncle," Caspian shot back.

Telria's eyes darkened, "if the Lord Miraz's commands are being ignored then yes I would tell him –"

"Even though you know it would mean Miraz would most likely throw the Professor in the dungeons!"

"The solution is simple; the Professor should stop teaching – "

"Have you any loyalties at all Telria?!"

"My loyalties are to Lord Miraz!" Telria snapped angrily, breathing harshly through her nose.

She paused breathing deeply, massaging her temples at the loss of her temper.

"My prince – " Telria began more calmly.

"Professor Cornelius practically raised both of us; two orphans in this castle and you would repay the man who treated you as a daughter like this?"

Telria flinched, "and what of the man who has given me the means and support to become all that I am today. Am I to repay your uncle's kindness with disloyalty?"

Caspian scoffed, though the sound was tinged with sadness, "my uncle rarely dispenses his _'kindness' _without expecting something in return. You have just become too blind to see it Telria."

Caspian brushed past her then. He knew it had been a mistake to follow her up here, to allow himself to become lost in memories and to think that some vestige of the friend he had once had remained.

…

"Ah Captain Glozelle," Lord Miraz drawled genially in greeting as the grave dark-eyed man entered the room.

"You sent for me my Lord," Glozelle asked as Lord Miraz poured himself a goblet of wine.

"Indeed I did," Lord Miraz confirmed as he gestured for the Captain to sit.

Captain Glozelle approached warily as he perched himself on the indicated chair. Ever poised and ready for any attack as a good soldier should be.

Lord Miraz took the seat facing his Captain as he sipped from his wine contemplatively.

A few seconds of silence stretched and Captain Glozelle tried not to shift tensely in his chair to betray any weaknesses.

"My wife draws near her time to giving birth," Lord Miraz mused.

Captain Glozelle tried for a second to determine why Lord Miraz had summoned him here but he dismissed any such attempts after a moment. Lord Miraz would only let him know his intentions when he chose to and not a second before then.

"I pray she blesses you with a son," Glozelle murmured quietly.

Lord Miraz smiled suddenly; a smile that held no warm joy but a hungriness like a starving wolf looking upon defenceless prey.

"I know it," he said lowly. "I can _feel_ it. The time for me to ascend to the throne draws near. My wife will give me a son soon."

Captain Glozelle dipped his head minutely, "then please accept my pre-emptive congratulations," he murmured wryly.

Lord Miraz chuckled darkly as he grinned, "indeed…But – of course, there are some _difficulties_ that must be taken care of before I would wear the crown," Lord Miraz trailed off meaningfully as he eyed his Captain.

Captain Glozelle swallowed, "you speak of the plan to displace Caspian?" the Captain ventured. "Of course when you announce your intention to contest your nephew for the throne you may rely on the support of myself and my men."

Lord Miraz swirled the dark liquid in his goblet contemplatively as he thoughtfully stroked his beard.

"Contests over thrones between family members can become so…_messy,_" Lord Miraz mused almost regretfully.

Captain Glozelle's eyes narrowed as a growing suspicion began in him.

"What would you suggest my Lord?" Captain Glozelle inquired.

Lord Miraz lowered his goblet. "Caspian. Dead."

Lord Miraz's eye glittered like two dark jewels as he held his Captain's gaze unflinchingly.

"But…he is your nephew? Your brother's son?" Glozelle breathed. He always knew that Miraz despised Caspian but this…this was treason.

"Can I rely on you or not…_General_?" Lord Miraz arched a dark brow as Captain Glozelle's head snapped up.

"General?" he repeated.

Lord Miraz shrugged carelessly. "I reward those who are loyal to me. You need only ask Telria for proof."

Lord Miraz stood then, as he drained his goblet.

Captain Glozelle numbly got to his feet as Lord Miraz deposited his goblet on the table.

"Think it over Captain," he said, "but think quickly for every second is crucial. I must know who I can rely on," Lord Miraz warned.

Captain Glozelle bowed lowly before he slipped from the room, his thoughts burdened and intending to seek out Telria.

…

Telria whipped around speedily, the sharpened tip of her sword effortlessly finding the hollow of her opponent's throat.

Captain Glozelle edged backwards, his hands raised in surrender.

Telria frowned, panting slightly with exertion as she lowered the blade.

"Tis not wise to creep so stealthily up on an armed individual Captain," she admonished, looking to the Captain expectantly.

"My apologies," Captain Glozelle offered immediately as he lowered his hands.

A silence stretched then during which Telria grew uncomfortable.

"Does my Lord Miraz require me?" Telria asked.

Captain Glozelle blinked, clearing his throat, "nay he does not," he answered, "it is…_I_ who require your assistance."

"_You _Captain_?_" Telria echoed, the surprise evident in her voice.

"I came to seek your advice on a specific topic," Glozelle stated.

Telria's grey eyes narrowed scathingly. "You mock me," she accused.

Glozelle frowned, "_mock _you?" he repeated baffled.

"I can imagine no topic for which a Captain would need to seek my advice on – I do not even hold an official capacity in the army," she said bitterly.

"You are a soldier Telria whether or not others chose to acknowledge it," Glozelle said firmly.

Telria sighed heavily as she conceded. "Very well Captain. On which _topic_ would you seek my specific counsel?"

"The Prince."

Even in the failing light from the late evening that bathed the now empty training grounds, Glozelle could still see the shock register on Telria's face.

"Captain?" she exclaimed unsure.

Captain Glozelle sighed heavily as his gaze drifted. His sight landed on the lean sword still clasped tightly in Telria's hand.

He remembered the first time Lord Miraz had presented Telria to him as nothing more than a bony knock-kneed girl with not even a sword to her name.

_~.~.~.~_

"_These recruits are worse than last year's," Lord Sopespian spat contemptuously at his side. _

_Captain Glozelle cast the pompous Lord at his side a side-long look. "Soldiers are not created overnight," he had replied._

_But even Captain Glozelle had sighed heavily as he gazed out over the training grounds at the hundred or so newly gathered recruits. _

_It was clear in most cases the young boys had never held swords as they mock-fought with their friends, laughing jovially. They had most likely enlisted in the army for the prestige and the regular pay, not anticipating the hard work or dedication required._

"_Stop swinging that sword before you injure yourself or someone else!" Captain Glozelle shouted as he strode forward to snatch the sword from the hand of a boisterous youth._

_The youth smirked, not at all intimidated, brushing back dark locks of hair. "Sorry Captain – I was just showing these boys some practice swings," he drawled smugly. "I'm Sarn by the way," he introduced himself with all the self-confidence of youth._

_Captain Glozelle arched a brow. _

_So this is what the Telmarine Army was coming to; arrogant boys who thought because they had a sword on their hip made them the greatest warriors to ever walk the earth._

_He was readying to give the smug youth before him some cutting words. It was important to show leadership from the start._

_However his words trailed off as Captain Glozelle looked up and saw Lord Miraz watching him from the window of his Captain's quarters inside the castle._

_Captain Glozelle didn't offer any words of dismissal as he strode off then towards the castle. Even from the start he had known that Lord Miraz was not a man you kept waiting._

_When he had entered his room, he hadn't noticed the lanky, scruffy youth loitering near his window._

_He had bowed courteously to Lord Miraz, offering him refreshment and exchanging meaningless chatter on the new recruits._

"_Ah yes," Lord Miraz said, "the new recruits. I have been watching them."_

_He hadn't voiced any disapproval but Glozelle heard it all the same. _

"_They are young. They will learn. They will grow into good soldiers," he stated with conviction._

_Lord Miraz leaned forth suddenly, "and that dedication is what makes you such an admirable Captain," he said. Glozelle had known even then that the compliment was false._

_It was then that he heard the scuffing sound that alerted him to the presence of another in the room with them._

_He had turned swiftly to see her still over by the window, gazing eagerly out at the new recruits warming up._

_She jumped when she realised he was watching her._

_Glozelle had at first thought she was a boy. Her hair had been cut short and very shoddily done and the nails she was chewing at were filthy. A commoner, Glozelle had deduced, even if the clothes she was wearing were clean and finely-made._

_She dipped into an awkward bow, ripping her hand away from her mouth, "milord," she murmured._

_Lord Miraz had laughed and she blushed scarlet red._

_Glozelle had looked to Miraz, already knowing and Miraz confirmed it. He gestured to the bony youth before him, "I've brought you a new recruit Captain."_

_Captain Glozelle had reluctantly got to his feet then, walking over to examine this 'new recruit' Lord Miraz had brought him._

"_Stand up straight boy, and I'm not a Lord – I'm Captain Glozelle," he had instructed her._

_She had snapped straight immediately, her pointed chin tilted upwards, her grey eyes wide._

_It was only _then_ as Glozelle was able to look closer that he discerned the softness to her features that let him know she was actually a girl and not the young boy he had initially imagined._

_Glozelle had whirled quickly on Lord Miraz then who was still sitting with his fingers steepled, watching shrewdly._

"_Lord Miraz, this is simply impossible," he had objected._

_Lord Miraz smiled genially, "and why is that Captain?"_

_Glozelle gritted his teeth, "there are no women in the Telmarine Army Lord Miraz," he replied stiffly._

_The girl before him was as skittish as a new-born colt as her wide eyes flickered nervously between Captain Glozelle and Lord Miraz._

_Lord Miraz had risen then with all the regal superiority he commanded to loom over the Captain._

"_Telria go out to the training grounds," Lord Miraz commanded without looking at the girl._

_Captain Glozelle similarly didn't drop his gaze from Lord Miraz as he heard the quick scamper of footsteps as the girl raced from the room._

_Glozelle felt sorry for the girl, truly. But he was more wary of Lord Miraz. In the council they whispered how over the years Lord Miraz had been adopting a more kingly style of ruling despite only being meant to act as an advisory to the true regent Prince Caspian. Prince Caspian was still only a boy – around the same age of the dark-haired girl – so he could not take to the throne yet. _

"_Captain I would very much appreciate it if you were to consider this a personal favour. The girl is no trouble – train her as you would any other. And when such a time comes you may call upon me to return the favour," Lord Miraz said._

_Lord Miraz always did start off with good favours and promises until he had one ensnared and then he ruled through fear and veiled threats._

"_Lord Miraz she would not last a week in the barracks. She would be torn to pieces. The Army is a source of pride – for men. To allow a woman – nay, an inept girl – to infringe upon that would be an insult to even the lowliest foot-soldier."_

"_I assure you that 'inept girl' is far more likely to succeed as a worthy soldier than any of those other fools on those training grounds at this moment Captain. Do you know why?"_

_Glozelle sighed heavily, massaging the bridge of his nose wearily, "why?" he finally relented._

_Lord Miraz chuckled; the sound as ever holding no real mirth._

"_Because she has a reason Captain. I don't mean the reasons these boys put themselves forth to be soldiers; not male pride or ego or even the thrill of the fight and blood. Something far more valuable to her that will drive her to succeed."_

_Glozelle had wavered slightly then as he ruminated over Miraz's words but still he was convinced._

_No woman would ever be a part of the Telmarine Army, no matter how many Lord's backing she had._

_However before he had been able to forcefully tell Lord Miraz that the girl Telria could never be a soldier, there was a commotion from outside._

_Glozelle instinctively moved to the window at the incensed shouts and jeers._

_Glozelle uttered a dark oath under his breath then as he saw the scene unfurling on the fighting grounds before him. _

_Lord Miraz who had followed and stood at his shoulder, laughed with dark glee as he surveyed the situation._

_Telria ducked deftly, missing the punch Sarn had thrown at her. _

_Even as she ducked though Telria was twisting in the air as she pulled back her fist like a coiled spring. She landed lightly and her fist snapped out like lightning catching Sarn's square jaw and he staggered backwards._

_She danced away again as the crowd gathered around them shouted and jeered._

_Glozelle had to admit she was quick and light on her feet, but she was no soldier. He saw how she cradled her fist, a pained grimace on her face._

_However as Sarn clambered to his feet again, red in the face from exertion and humiliation Glozelle moved._

_He swiftly exited the room, coming out onto the training grounds just as Sarn roared, readying to lunge for Telria. She was already tense on the balls of her feet, preparing to dive away from the clumsy tackle._

"_STOP!" Glozelle bellowed over the heckling of the crowd._

_Immediately a hushed silence fell as the crowd quickly dispersed into their previously ordered lines once more. Sarn and Telria were left exposed at the front and Glozelle loomed over them with the thunderous expression of a displeased Captain. _

_Sarn straightened, jutting his chin out haughtily as he looked to Captain Glozelle. _

_However Telria slunk along to stand, cowering before Glozelle, her eyes trained to the muddy ground beneath her boots._

"_Is that anyway for two soldiers of the Telmarine Army to act?!" Glozelle demanded scathingly as he eyed both Sarn and Telria._

"_Captain I didn't do – " Sarn began to protest before he trailed off as Glozelle's words began to sink in. _

_Telria's head snapped up, choppy lengths of ebony hair falling across her mud-spattered brow, her eyes wide in her bony face._

"_But Captain she's not a soldier!" Sarn exclaimed as whispered murmurs rippled along the lines gathered behind them._

"She _can't be!" Sarn stressed, looking incredulously from Glozelle before casting a disgusted look at Telria._

_Telria was holding her breath as she gazed up at Glozelle wide-eyed and infinitely hopeful._

_Glozelle glanced over his shoulder seeing that Lord Miraz had ambled out onto the training grounds._

_He looked back to Telria._

"_Make sure you get fitted for proper armour Telria," Glozelle said, his voice carrying over the stunned rows of new recruits. _

_Telria grinned blindingly, despite the mud on her face and the dark looks she was attracting. _

_And for a brief moment Glozelle thought he had done the right thing. _

_~.~.~.~_

That blinding bright day on the training grounds faded to the dark evening. It was no longer the bony-faced and inept young girl that had grinned up at him standing before him now.

Telria was still looking at him, her sword clasped confidently in her hand, stupefied by his strange request.

But she schooled her features expertly, "what does my Captain wish to ask of me about the Prince?" she said arching a cool brow.

"Besides his tutor it is you who knows him best," Glozelle said.

Telria frowned slightly, though it seemed more pained than irate. "Once I did," she agreed.

Glozelle held Telria's gaze for a candid moment.

"Do you think Caspian would make a good king?"

Telria's grey eyes widened in surprise, "Captain?!" she spluttered as her calm composure fled. Her strengths always had been with a blade rather than a duel of words. She could kill a man a hundred different ways yet the very thought of speaking to the high born lords and ladies of the court made her pale and run in the opposite direction.

"It is a simple question Telria," Glozelle reasoned calmly.

Telria frowned darkly, "are you testing my loyalty to Lord Miraz?"

Glozelle sighed. He had already been suspicious of Lord Miraz when he had first met him and so he was not so blindly loyal. But Telria had only been a naïve and gullible child when she first met Miraz and she was in awe of the great lord that would take the time to even acknowledge her.

"I am merely asking you a question Telria. I only want your honest opinion and anything said would remain between us."

She eyed him suspiciously for another moment before the steely look lessened and her eyes softened from flinty ash to dove-grey.

It was Miraz that had instilled in her that paranoia to be suspicious of everyone other than him, to second guess every other person.

But it seemed that after so many years of Glozelle having her back as she trained to become a soldier; not even Miraz's warnings could wan her trust in her Captain.

In the same way that despite serving Lord Miraz as loyally as she could; the friendship that had sprung between two lonely children in Caspian and Telria, could not be completely eradicated, even with all the bitter betrayals that had followed on both sides the years after.

"I believe Caspian would make a good King," Telria stated undoubtedly then.

"Better than Lord Miraz?" Glozelle prompted.

Telria stiffened as she turned, swinging her sword through the air like a scythe.

She scoffed angrily, the sound tinged with exasperation as she threw a few more practice swings in anger.

"Why does my Lord Miraz place me in such awkward positions?" she bemoaned.

Glozelle sighed, "to be loyal to Lord Miraz is to be loyal to no one else."

Telria stopped swinging her sword, as her arm dropped defeated to her side. However her gaze traced the obsidian hilt of her blade; the blade Lord Miraz had gifted her when she had finally become a soldier.

"He is my prince," Telria whispered softly. There was even a glimpse of the kitchen scrubber child in her rain-puddle eyes as she said the words.

"Telria you have always danced in between the lines; always in the grey, never choosing a side. You are a soldier, yet not. Friend of the prince, yet not. Loyal to Lord Miraz, yet not."

Telria's head snapped up, a readying protest on the tip of her tongue when Captain Glozelle stalled her words. "You mean to say you have always followed Lord Miraz's orders to the letter?" he queried knowingly.

A high flush rose in Telria's cheeks as she dipped her head, remembering the books of old tales she never reported to Lord Miraz.

"I have served my Lord Miraz loyally over the years," Telria murmured.

"At the cost of the prince's friendship," Glozelle finished shrewdly.

Telria sighed heavily, her eyes lifting to the skies were the faint glimmers of stars were just beginning to blink into sight.

"I never wished it to be so," she murmured sadly, "yet I knew I could never have both."

Glozelle sighed, "does that mean you have come to a decision?"

Telria sighed irascibly. "Prince Caspian does not reach of age until the end of the year to take to the throne; surely some resolution could be reached before then," she reasoned. "Lord Miraz need not challenge Caspian for the throne yet or at all."

Glozelle's expression was grim as he looked down at the muddy ground where the blood of countless soldiers' had been spilt all in the pursuit of bettering themselves. A lonely wind keened through the wooden beams of the shelters further off. Every other living soul it seemed was enjoying the feast in the grand banquet hall.

"Lord Miraz does not mean to challenge Caspian for the throne," Glozelle said quietly.

Telria blinked, her brow furrowing in confusion, "what do you mean?"

"Captain!"

Both Glozelle and Telria's heads snapped around at the shout to see the young guard racing towards them, his armour glinting as it caught the last light of the day.

Sarn barely looked at Telria as he approached Glozelle. He had moved on from the childish cruel pranks he would play in the barracks on her. If he ever happened across her he would simply ignore her as though she wasn't there at all.

"What is it Sarn?" Glozelle asked immediately.

"A scuffle Captain, in the stables. It seems a few horse thieves were idiotic enough to try and rob the royal stables."

Long years of arduous training had made Sarn a better swordsman undoubtedly but it had not unfortunately rid him of his superior ways or arrogant nature.

"Very well Sarn, gather the guards from the portcullis and meet me down by the stables," Glozelle instructed.

Sarn nodded, "of course Captain," he said, already moving off, with not a look to spare for Telria.

Telria of course was used to it by now and barely blinked at the cold treatment.

She was still eyeing Captain Glozelle shrewdly, trying to discern the cryptic meaning of his last words to her.

"I can help," Telria volunteered immediately as Glozelle made to move off and see to his duties.

Captain Glozelle sighed. "Not tonight Telria," he refused her. "Think about what I said," he added in a quiet murmur as he moved away.

Even as he walked though he could feel Telria's keen gaze on his retreating back.

…

Telria flew down the stairs and across the flagstones; as swift as a deadly shadow.

The sky was a deepening midnight blue as late evening slipped into early nightfall.

The banquet was over and all along the hallways echoed the laughter and voices as the high-born lords and ladies made their way back to their quarters.

Telria kept her head down whenever she passed such gabbling huddles along the hallways, anxious not to make eye contact accidentally.

But all the same a high crystal voice stopped her in her tracks against her will.

"Telria!"

Telria steps slowed reluctantly. Despite spending years integrating herself into court life, she still drew a blank most times when it came to conversing casually with high-born nobles. Well, _most _high-born nobles. Despite being leagues above her Caspian had never made her feel low-born or unworthy.

Telria turned to be faced with a familiar face that she knew from a distance and not personal acquaintance.

Lady Vainalia was paused in the hall. Her companion, a lord by the looks of his fine dress, who was escorting her back to her chambers, paused with her and looked distastefully towards Telria.

"Well…come here!" Lady Vainalia snapped impatiently.

Telria loitered a moment more while Lady Vainalia's patience shortened even further.

Telria eventually approached the lady, dipping slightly into a bow, "Lady Vainalia?"

"Good," Lady Vainalia said affirmatively. "Now Telria be a good dear and run along and get my stole. I left it in the banquet hall."

Telria felt a hot flush rise to her cheeks as she gritted her teeth against saying something inappropriate. She felt a lot more embarrassed than angry at the evident belittlement.

She bowed in acquiescence before she turned swiftly, hoping to just find Lady Vainalia's fancy garment and bring it to her as quickly as possible.

"Vainalia sweet?" her companion said, as he watched Telria disappear into the shadows further down the hall.

"Yes?" Lady Vainalia turned to him, a perfect ebony brow arched in polite question.

"I thought this was your stole that I carried?" he questioned, holding up the royal purple silken material draped over his arm.

Lady Vainalia laughed lightly, holding a delicate hand to her lips. "Oh dear," she mused with false concern, "it seems I have sent the poor kitchen scrubber on a fruitless errand."

Lady Vainalia's companion laughed with her then, "the poor girl will be searching the banquet hall until dawn," he concurred as they began to move off.

"Indeed," Lady Vainalia sighed, "a pity we couldn't go back to tell her to desist her search. But I am rather exhausted and I fear I must go directly to my chambers."

"As must I," the lord agreed. "I'm sure Telria will figure it out…eventually."

* * *

Thanks to new follows/ &amp; / favourites and reviews!

sarahwood; Telria will be the OC and I'm glad to hear you're enjoying the story!

Meddlesome; Doctor Cornelius is one of my favourite characters as well, so I'm very relieved to hear I haven't destroyed his character!


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter IV**

Telria raced quickly along the abandoned long tables, her sharp grey gaze racing faster still, searching vainly for the forgotten garment.

Once more she reached the dais, her hurried hunting yielding no results.

All around her the staff from the kitchens worked tirelessly, cleaning up after the grand banquet.

Telria watched them for a moment, focused as they were on their individual tasks they paid her no heed. But Telria remembered being one of them, scrubbing down the tables night after night. They were warned never to raise their eyes from their work, if by any chance a noble should return to the banquet hall.

Perhaps because she had been one herself though, Telria could feel the curious gazes flitting to her when they thought she wasn't looking.

"_Telria?_"

The surprise in the rasping voice was palpable, as Telria whirled lightly on her booted heels to face the source.

The face before her was one she knew very well. Yet, the appearance of it was far from welcome.

There were no words to offer the small, hunched man before her. She had said her piece to him years ago and Telria was not one for dredging up old grievances, once she considered the score settled.

She gave him an acknowledging glance; cool and aloof, before she averted her gaze, scouring for the elusive stole.

"Oh, I see…dressed in all 'er finery she thinks she's better than her poor old father now…"

Telria glanced stiffly over her shoulder, as the shabbily dressed man sidled up to her with a malevolent sneer marring his features.

"You are not my father," Telria corrected him quietly yet venomously.

He shrugged unconcernedly, sniffing loudly. "Best ya ever had in any case, 'at's fer sure," he enforced. "I took you in that night; nothin' but a wee squallin' swaddle of clothin' left to die in th' cold, and this is how you repay me the kindness of my poor heart?"

Telria spun quickly and suddenly she was looming over the haggard man. Her eyes were like striking flint as she gritted her teeth.

She grew weary of always having to be _grateful._ She longed for the day when she would repay the debts of kindness she owed. But this man before her; she would be damned before she would give him a single thing more.

"I have repaid any debt due to you many times over. I owe you nothing – my conscience is clear."

The man's maliciously gleeful grin slipped slightly as he glared at her.

Telria sighed inwardly; forever she was poised on this tightrope, caught between two places. She tried to do what was right, but she was only human. Her judgement was not infallible, she made mistakes. Yet still, she despised this _'grey area' _as her Captain had put it, that she was always assigned to.

She was once placed lower than the man before her in terms of status, yet now, as surely as she loomed over his hunched frame, did she tower above him socially. And both those above her and below her on the invisible rungs of this social ladder in life, despised her for her ascension.

She was born into poverty and she should have stayed in it; an opinion shared by most. But Telria disagreed. She was not ashamed of where she had come from. She never pretended to be anything more than who she was. She felt uncomfortable when forced to wear the one silk dress she had been gifted, and she preferred to keep her distance from the nobles.

But she was determined.

The man before her who called himself her father, wasn't her father. But he had taken her in and raised her like countless others before her. Orphans, with no place or family who cared to claim them.

He wasn't kind. But he had given her shelter, food to sustain her and work to do. And that was much more than the beggars on the streets had. She would see them in their rags, disease-riddled and desperate, as she ran through the streets on some errand or other. And each time it strengthened her resolve. She wouldn't think so harshly of the man raising her when he shouted at her then, as she remembered the pleading eyes of those less fortunate. She had enough to survive, and for that she had to be grateful.

"Well, innit nice that _you_ have a clear conscience," he sneered sardonically, ripping Telria from her musings.

Telria made to move away swiftly before she could lose her temper.

But a gnarled hand shot out to hinder her flight; bony fingers curling savagely around her wrist.

"I raised you – you ungrateful whelp!"

Telria resisted the instinctive urge to tear her arm from the biting hold. She possessed the strength and skill to make the man regret ever laying a finger on her now, but she wouldn't use it. She might be notorious for fighting unfairly in the soldiers' training pits, but the man before her now was no soldier, only an embittered and haggard old man.

"Let go," she stated firmly, flexing the fingers lightly of her imprisoned hand.

"I need more coin," he demanded gruffly.

Telria ground her teeth together, feeling more than ever the stares of those around her watching warily. None would intercede on her behalf, she knew. Yet she didn't blame them either. They were obliged to show fealty to the man before her, lest they pay the price of being cast out of the castle altogether. Telria knew that only too well, remembering her own younger years spent as a lowly servant; of forced loyalty to unfair masters just to survive.

"I have paid you thrice over for the years you raised me, out of my pay as a soldier," Telria replied. "You will not get a single coin more from me," she added uncompromisingly.

The bony fingers around her wrist clamped tighter as the man that called himself her father, seethed up at her. "You would be dead if I hadn't of taken you in! You think you can ever repay _that? _How much is your life worth? How much – "

"Take your hand off her."

Telria's head snapped around at the commanding order; the surprise clear on her features.

Immediately the crushing hold around her wrist was relinquished as the grubby man staggered back, bowing low and already stammering out pitiful apologies.

"Prince Caspian, forgive me, forgive me, I – "

"It's not my forgiveness you should be asking for," Caspian cut across the man succinctly, meaningfully.

The man's speech halted, before he dragged his gaze reluctantly back to Telria.

"Forgive me, Lady Telria," he sounded stiffly.

Telria's eyes narrowed marginally. "I am no Lady, as you well know. But all the same you are forgiven."

The man before her didn't dare raise his eyes as he murmured respectful courtesies towards the Prince, before scuttling off out of sight.

Telria breathed an inaudible sigh of relief, before a rueful smirk had almost curved her lips in the next instance. It had been many long years since she had had to be rescued by a prince.

"What are you doing in here?" Caspian asked almost immediately.

"I could ask you the same question, my prince?" she countered mischievously, tilting her head to the side slightly. But the impish air vanished quickly as she glanced down to the stone, blushing slightly. "I am searching for Lady Vainalia's stole," Telria murmured embarrassedly in explanation.

"But I passed Lady Vainalia on her way to her chambers not a few moments ago," Caspian intoned confused, before realisation smoothed both their expressions.

Telria smirked grimly. "I'm sure she simply forgot," she said with no real attempt to sound genuine.

Caspian sighed; despising the court his uncle had cultivated around him, where cruelty and conniving were rewarded and kindness and compassion trampled.

"Come Telria; I'll walk you back to your rooms," Caspian said tiredly.

Telria smiled softly. "There's no need my prince," she countered.

Caspian frowned exasperatedly at her. "I know you're capable of handling yourself, but…it would set my mind at ease."

…

"What did he want?" Caspian glanced at Telria askance, as they transversed the now silent and darkening palace.

"What he always wants," Telria replied unperturbed. "More gold to line his pockets with."

Caspian frowned grimly. "Men like him deserve nothing," he said quietly and a soft smile graced Telria's lips at Caspian's indignation on her behalf. "When I'm King, I'll make sure men like him are thrown out of the palace," Caspian vowed.

_Caspian _would _make a good King…_Telria mused, before her thoughts returned to Captain Glozelle's cryptic words and her smile faded.

The young prince's expression turned baffled as he looked to Telria and saw the suddenly troubled expression haunting her features.

Caspian's steps slowed. "Don't tell me you actually care for Hel?" Caspian exclaimed incredulous, misinterpreting Telria's unease to be as a result of his words. "I know he raised you, but he beat and –"

"No, my prince," Telria interrupted him. "I hold but the minimalists of gratitude towards Hel for saving my life all those years ago. He raised me it's true, as he did many others, but I have paid any debt I owed him for the shelter and food he provided over the years, thrice over. I feel nothing at all now for Hel."

Caspian nodded once, satisfied. But still the disturbed unease persisted to shadow Telria's tightly drawn features.

That same utterly frustrating feeling rose up in Caspian as it always did. The old familiar urge to instinctively ask his oldest friend what troubled her, fighting against the sensible voice inside his head that told him to just walk away.

_She is perhaps worrying over business of my Uncle…_Caspian thought sourly.

All the same though, as they paused upon reaching the familiar chambers, Caspian lingered.

Telria noticing his reluctance to leave, turned curiously to him, grey eyes like two silvery pools in the shadowy, moon-lit hall.

Her chambers were tucked away at some chilly corner of this great, stone palace; at a remove from everyone else, because Telria never fitted in anywhere.

"What is it, my prince?" she asked quietly, concern crinkling her eyes, softening their flinty look.

Caspian looked up to see Telria half bathed in moonlight, and half shrouded in shadows.

"Nothing," he murmured resolutely, before turning and stalking away, to leave Telria staring after him wonderingly.

…

_Lord Miraz does not mean to challenge Caspian for the throne…_

The methodical rasping sound of the whet stone against the sword stopped suddenly, and Telria sighed heavily as her shoulders slumped.

_What did Captain Glozelle's words mean?_

Telria picked up the rag at her side, resting her sword across her knees to better shine the broadside.

The metal was warm under her touch, having spent the past hour honing the blade under the hot midday sun out in the training grounds. She was perched unobtrusively outside the armoury, trying futilely to find distraction in her task while her thoughts continued to turn over and over, seeming to make less sense each time.

Telria remained firmly unconvinced, that Lord Miraz had suddenly decided to relinquish his long-harboured ambition of ascending to the Telmarine throne.

And yet her Captain's words could not have been clearer; Lord Miraz _wasn't_ going to challenge Caspian for the throne.

What had made Lord Miraz change his plans? _Perhaps the knowledge that he is soon to be a father has caused him to view things from a different perspective. Caspian _is_ afterall, his nephew, _Telria's thoughts suggested falteringly.

It was true Telria had noted a…_change _come over Lord Miraz, as Lady Prunaprismia's pregnancy had progressed. There was almost a hungry excitement that grew within him. Telria had merely assumed Lord Miraz's behaviour to be as a result of impending fatherhood. But Telria remembered long months past when Miraz had first received the news that his Lady wife was with child. Miraz had called Telria into his chambers, which in itself was not unusual. She had shared many conversations with Miraz that required utmost secrecy.

But this time he had had the crown in his hands, turning the finely crafted object over and over again, eyes fixed with a frightening intensity on it. The crown his brother had worn and that Caspian would one day wear. It was kept securely locked away until Caspian's coronation day, when the kingdom could once more celebrate having a King to look to.

Miraz had looked suddenly up at Telria, that same unnerving intensity still in his eyes. "For long, long years Telria I have contemplated this crown. But never have things been so clear to me as they are becoming. Before the year is out, I will have a son, and I know now what I must do before that time."

Telria remembered feeling disquieted by the words, unable to help thinking how they sounded so very much like a threat, a chilling promise. But Lord Miraz often spoke cryptically, and it was the listener's arduous task to discern his meaning.

Telria, despite her usual sharpness, was at a loss to Miraz's words though and her expression must have shown it, for Lord Miraz laughed.

"You need not concern yourself Telria; I will tell you all in good time. In the meantime, your loyalty continues to be a treasured boon," he soothed her, but the words were insincere, and Telria had known it as much then as she did now.

He had got up then and replaced the crown carefully to its ornate glass tabernacle, turning the long golden key before pocketing it amongst his rich robes.

Telria remembered looking at the crown that had been Caspian's father's.

_Caspian _would _make a good king. Wouldn't he?_

Telria sighed again, having by now abandoned any attempt to concentrate on shining her blade.

The blade Lord Miraz had gifted her when she had finally completed her long years of training; when she could finally be counted as one of the Telmarine Army; a soldier. She had felt utterly awed to be given so fine a blade, her fingers trembling as she had grasped the hilt for the first time. And then she had seen Caspian's face. He had come to see her be formally officiated as a solider of the Telmarine army; and he had arrived at the precise moment Miraz had presented her with her sword. The image of his eyes burning with such betrayal, had long been seared into Telria's mind.

"Girl."

Telria was torn from her thoughts at the curt call. Despite the anonymity of the address, Telria knew it was directed at her. She recognised that arrogant drawl all too well.

She steeled her jaw as she looked up coolly to see Sarn standing stiffly a few metres from her.

"You are on patrol with me," Sarn said, evidently forcing the words out as his face flushed with humiliation, at being partnered with the girl he hated so much.

Telria made no comment, merely stood and sheathed her sword.

"Be ready by the main gates in ten minutes," Sarn warned, as Telria moved past him wordlessly.

In less than five minutes, Telria had saddled her horse and had her pack secured, waiting by the main gates to the castle.

As she waited her eyes were irretrievably drawn up to the old familiar windows of the Professor's study. She wondered absently if Caspian was there now having lessons with their old familiar tutor.

"When you're finished daydreaming, girl."

Telria snapped her head around to see Sarn sat astride a tidy, grey horse that was champing uncomfortably at its bit.

Telria moved to swing up into her saddle. "You've buckled your reins too tight," Telria told him coolly, before spurring her own horse forward at an outright gallop through the castle gates.

Despite the unpleasant company Telria enjoyed the invigorating ride, and a soft smile was on her lips as she slowed her horse to a halt at the familiar post, waiting on Sarn to catch up.

Sarn reached her, already glowering, but Telria took no notice.

Her sharp grey eyes combed through the forest before her, scouring for any sign of life that shouldn't be. But all she could see were trees clustered close together, whispering softly in the gentle breeze.

Sarn's horse gave a nervous whinny and he pulled irritably at the reins, casting a stern glance towards the forest that loomed before them.

"Shall we?" Telria prompted.

Sarn gritted his teeth. "After you, girl," he spat sarcastically.

Telria ignored the jibe, urging her horse forward, eyes and ears alert for the slightest movement from the cool green depths of the forest.

Dappled shadows engulfed her as she entered the periphery of the forest and a shiver raced up Telria's spine, as her eyes adjusted to the gloomy light.

Sarn's horse gave another shrill neigh and Sarn muttered a dark oath under his breath.

"Damn forest!" Sarn expelled emphatically. "I don't know why we must patrol here anyway. Nothing has been seen for years."

Telria didn't reply, knowing Sarn wasn't really talking to her anyway; merely speaking aloud to try and quell his own unease at the unnerving stillness surrounding them.

Telria couldn't help but agree partially with Sarn though, as they directed their horses ever onwards through the eerily silent forest. They didn't travel further into the forest, merely went a few metres in – always within sight of the edge of the treeline – and directed their horses along horizontally; searching fruitlessly for signs of life, of lairs or the creatures that this forest supposedly protected.

The patrols were a remnant from the past years when the Telmarines had first conquered Narnia, and the forest had teemed with Narnian creatures that had fled there for its shelter and safety. Huge patrols of soldiers would go out to sweep the border as Telria and Sarn were doing now. But in the long years since then, the Narnians had been wiped out and Telria doubted there was anything left lurking in this forest. All the same though, it made her uneasy.

Her mind had fey, whimsical images of the magical creatures the Professor once described to she and Caspian; of trees that danced and brooks that sang, while all manner of creatures great and small gathered to celebrate under the stars.

But the imaginings from her childhood were fleeting, as she remembered the stories Lord Miraz had told her as well. It had been after she had accidentally let slip to Lord Miraz for the very first time, about the old tales the Professor was teaching she and Caspian.

She had been so nervous, fearing that this great Lord, the Prince's uncle, would be furious that Professor Cornelius was teaching a grubby, servant girl along with the prince. But Lord Miraz had brought her – _a lowly, kitchen scrubber -_ into his grand study and gave her hot honey cakes, and explained to her sincerely why it was so important that the old tales not be taught.

He told her horrible stories about heinous creatures that lurked in the woods preying on unsuspecting Telmarines who strayed too close. Her nine year old self had been utterly terrified, rigid with fear, the rich treats tasting like ash in her mouth all of a sudden.

Then Lord Miraz had asked if she enjoyed her lessons with the prince and Professor Cornelius, and Telria had replied that she enjoyed them more than anything in the world. The Lord had smiled then and Telria remembered feeling very small and very afraid.

"_Well then Telria, you must continue with your lessons, of course."_

"_Thank-you, milord!" Telria had blurted out, too genuinely elated to contain it._

_Lord Miraz had chuckled as he leaned towards her confidentially. "And Telria, because I am allowing you to have such lessons with the Prince, you wouldn't mind telling me a few things now and again, would you?" Lord Miraz queried innocuously._

_Telria's small face had scrunched up in confusion. "But milord, I don't know many things. I'm only learning and Professor – "_

"_No, nothing like that," Miraz had cut over her impatiently, smiling indulgently. "I just want you to tell me what the Professor teaches you and Caspian. You can do that, can't you? And you don't have to let Caspian or his Professor know that you're telling me. Best not to worry them about such things."_

_Telria remembered feeling confused and her stomach squirming. "I suppose so, milord," she replied uncertainly. The lessons were her private few hours of absolute joy with Caspian her prince, and Professor Cornelius. It felt…wrong almost, to tell Miraz. But then Miraz _was_ Caspian's Uncle. What harm could it do?_

_Lord Miraz had easily read the reluctance on Telria's face and he affected a despondent sigh. "If you do not feel that is something you could do Telria, you must tell me now. It is quite alright."_

_Telria remembered the warmth of reassurance spreading through her as she grinned stupidly. "It would just feel a bit strange milord, to be telling you all about the lessons behind the Professor and Prince Caspian's backs."_

_Lord Miraz had smiled indulgently, nodding sympathetically at the little, naïve kitchen-scrubber._

"_Of course, Telria. Such loyalty to your prince is admirable. Now go down to the kitchens and Hel will send you on your way with your things," Lord Miraz had said dismissively with a vacant smile, as he turned away from her._

_Telria still recalled the absolutely sickening lurch of her stomach. "M-milord?! I-I'm to be sent away from the castle?"_

_Lord Miraz had glanced towards her distractedly. "Oh, do not be so distressed child. I am sure a young, able girl like you, will have no difficulty surviving outside the castle."_

_Telria couldn't help it then as big, bulbous tears had begun to leak out of her eyes and run down her cheeks. She scrubbed at them furiously, only managing to make her sooty face look more grubby. "But milord, did I…I-I didn't do anything wrong?" Telria tried desperately._

_Lord Miraz had looked to her again with that utterly sympathetic expression before he spoke. "No Telria, you didn't do anything wrong. You _didn't do _anything." Lord Miraz's eyes had rested on her meaningfully then, and slowly realisation had dawned. Telria always had been sharp, having a keen gift for observation._

"_I-I suppose I could tell you…I mean about the lessons," Telria had suggested haltingly then, stomach twisting in knots. She felt the guilty kick in her belly again but she pushed it back. She couldn't be sent from the castle. She had seen the beggars on the street. She wouldn't survive. And besides, what _real harm_ could telling the Prince's uncle about his lessons do?_

_Lord Miraz had smiled widely. "Wonderful Telria! I think perhaps you need not be sent from the castle afterall."_

_A tremulous smile of weakening relief crossed Telria's lips then. She wasn't going to be cast out away from the castle, and the Professor's wonderful lessons, and her Prince. _

_But even in her great relief, a thought was planted in Telria's head; a lesson she took from that first meeting with Lord Miraz._

_You didn't refuse Lord Miraz._

…

"Two visits within one week; truly, this is a surprise," Professor Cornelius remarked, affecting a tone of faux shock.

Telria looked up coolly from where she was perched at the window in the Professor's study.

Cornelius ambled sedately into his study, placing his pile of scrolls and parchment on the desk. All the while he surreptitiously let his gaze travel over the room, eyes scouring for one misplaced book or tellingly disturbed dust.

But no old star charts annotated by Caspian's untidy scrawl and Telria's neat script, littered his desk this time. And not a single page it seemed had been shifted.

"Considering recent occurrences, I found the soldiers' barracks a little unwelcoming," Telria murmured wryly in reply, a smirk teasing at her lips.

Professor Cornelius chortled good-naturedly. "You refer of course, to the sound thrashing you gave Sarn and that lackey of his, Elrin, in the fighting grounds this morning?"

A warm, genuine smile curved Telria's lips, eyes sparkling. "I did not think you cared to watch the duels Professor, except of course when Prince Caspian was one of the combatants?"

Professor Cornelius shot the girl on his windowsill a rueful, knowing smirk. Professor Cornelius was a man of books and words rather than blades and punches. But he always took a prideful satisfaction in seeing Caspian duel with excellence.

Adversely, Cornelius had never made a point of watching Telria duel. By the time that Telria was competent enough to hold her ground in the fighting pits, her loyalty was also under question. And it brought the Professor no joy, to watch Telria grow in skill with a blade, fearing that one day such deadly talent may be used against those once considered friends.

However, despite it, Cornelius sometimes found himself surreptitiously watching Telria duel from a covert niche. And despite feeling wary of Telria's dexterity with a sword, it still also gave the old Professor a swell of pride when Telria's opponent raised his hand in surrender.

She was a sound swordfighter. Dishonourable, of course. Something the Professor knew jarred against Caspian's principled notions of a fair duel. But the Professor also acknowledged, that for Telria to have made any advancement in rank, she had no choice but to be dishonourable.

Caspian could lose a duel and none would think lesser of their Prince for it. Everyone lost duels; it was simply a fact. Soldiers conceded defeats all the time in training duels. But for Telria; defeat simply wasn't an option. For the first time Telria would hold her palm up in open surrender, none would let her forget it. It would be held against her always.

It was no secret her position in the Telmarine army was contentious; the only female in the whole army. Such a renown made her notorious; a reputation that did her no favours. As such, it was a given, that the slightest opportunity that Telria showed a weakness, would be exploited to expel her from the rank of soldier she had worked so tirelessly to achieve.

Telria was still smiling softly at the Professor from her perch on the windowsill; surprised yet not to learn that her old tutor sometimes watched her duel. It created a warm glow of secret happiness inside her, to think that someone watching her duel, actually wanted her to win.

The smile on her lips faded though, eyes flickering to a sight outside the window, as they filled with purpose.

"Professor, may I speak candidly with you?" Telria asked suddenly.

Professor Cornelius was careful not to let his expression show any surprise at the unprecedented words leaving his former student's mouth. He was wary of any tricks from Telria.

"I have always valued honesty Telria; and it was not I, who broke that trust between us first," he said gravely, watching the dark-haired girl perched on the window sill still.

She seemed to be engrossed in a sight in the courtyards outside; her keen, quicksilver eyes focused intently. But from the slightest bitter quirk of her lips, Cornelius knew she had heard his words.

"I had an…unfortunate incident with Hel a few nights ago in the banquet hall," Telria remarked, never once looking towards him.

"Caspian told me of it," Cornelius concurred.

Telria smiled fondly, sadly. "Prince Caspian intervened before the situation could turn _ugly._"

Cornelius frowned lightly. Miraz had taught her to be like that. To _talk _like that. Saying things without ever quite saying them; veiled threats, barbs and insinuations.

But the Professor's expression softened when Telria glanced over her shoulder at him, her grey eyes almost unsure as he remained silent.

Cornelius could still remember the first time he had met Telria, as a kitchen scrubber with round, rain-puddle eyes, mere days after Caspian's father had died…

_~.~.~.~.~_

_Professor Cornelius was pacing irritably in his study, puffing on his usual pipe furiously. His head was wreathed in an amorphous cloud of blue-grey smoke, as his blue eyes sparked with ire. _

_He had talked and pleaded and reasoned tirelessly with Miraz for hours; but still to no avail. It had been mere days after Caspian IX's death and already Miraz had thrown wide the doors of the banquet hall for a grand feast. _

_Whispers fired about the castle of the vulgarity and impropriety of such an action; especially when the kingdom was still meant to be in a period of mourning for their King. But none dared voice their dissent too loudly, for Lord Miraz was truly someone to be feared now with his brother no longer alive to govern him._

_Still, the Professor had been brave enough to confront Lord Miraz about his insistence on having Caspian attend the feast. He had tried foolishly to appeal to Lord Miraz for mercy on his recently orphaned nephew. But Lord Miraz was implacable, and so reluctantly and with a heavy heart, Cornelius had wearily climbed to the young prince's room. _

_He found Caspian as he had found him the previous days; prone on his bed, face down in his pillows as he wept bitterly and the usual, daily tray of food untouched. _

_Professor Cornelius had hated Lord Miraz more than ever then for forcing him to do what he had to do next. It took him a good few tries before Cornelius could work up the courage almost, to tell the grieving child that he had to attend a pompous banquet that night. _

_Caspian had immediately bolted upright, little face flushed and lengths of dark, unruly hair sticking to his wet cheeks. He had looked up at his Professor with hopelessly devastated eyes and simply asked him, "Why does my uncle hate me Professor?" And it was at that moment Cornelius vowed to always protect Caspian. _

_Professor Cornelius had begun pacing a groove in the smooth stone of his study as soon as he had sent Caspian on his way to the dratted feast. And he probably would have continued wearing the stone down, and steadily filling the room with smoky fog until the feast ended; only ten minutes after he had last seen him, Caspian burst back into his study unceremoniously with barely a perfunctory knock. _

_Professor Cornelius had whirled to loom above the little prince; still dressed in his full regalia for the feast. But the Professor's expression softened when he had saw the grubby tear tracks clear on the young prince's face._

_Cornelius' immediate concern was that Caspian had become upset as the Professor had warned Miraz he would. _

_But the Professor's eyes had widened in surprise as he noticed the filthy, little urchin that had trotted in happily after Caspian, looking about her with inquisitive eyes._

_It was one of the rare occasions the Professor had been rendered speechless as he looked inquiringly towards his young ward. _

"_Caspian?" he immediately prompted, wondering fleetingly if the young prince knew of his little shadow._

_But then the prince had taken Professor Cornelius aside with so serious an expression on his small, earnest face, that Cornelius couldn't help but indulge him._

"_Professor," Caspian began gravely. "Because my f-father is…Well, I am now King. And my father always taught me that a King's duty is to make sure his subjects are happy."_

_Professor Cornelius nodded concurringly. "A wise lesson to be sure, my prince," he replied, casting a dubious glance over his shoulder at the loitering servant girl watching them unabashedly, with unrestrained trepidation in her round, grey eyes._

"_Well," Caspian continued frowning moodily, before he gestured with over-exaggerated signals to the skinny girl with the sharp, bony face behind him. "This is Telria, and she's hungry."_

_From that night on it had become something of a habit; that while Cornelius would be sharing his evening meal with Caspian, this little, dark head would peek cautiously around the door. Telria would never enter unless Caspian told her she could though. _

_And then with a beaming, white smile in her dirtied face she would bound happily into the room, scrambling up onto the windowsill beside Caspian._

_Professor Cornelius couldn't help but watch them fondly, chuckling gruffly around his pipe as Caspian would frown disapprovingly, watching Telria scarf down all her food within minutes of arriving. Telria would look to Caspian guilelessly then and with a heavy sigh and a histrionic eye-roll, Caspian would without fail everytime, shove half of his food towards the little kitchen scrubber. _

_A bright, blinding grin would claim her small face as she sang happily, "Thank-you, my prince!"_

_And Caspian would smile begrudgingly, muttering under his breath warningly to Telria not to eat it so fast this time. _

_Cornelius noticed that Telria seemed to savour and enjoy her extra half portion from Caspian, almost twice as much as her own helping. _

_~.~.~.~.~_

"Lost in memories again, Professor?"

Professor Cornelius blinked rapidly, and vision refocusing he saw Telria situated still on the sill like years before, golden sunshine streaming in through the open window beside her.

"You'll have to forgive me Telria; the older one gets it seems the more steeped in memories they become," he grumbled.

Telria smiled enigmatically but refrained from commenting, instead returning her gaze to the open window once more, one knee bent and hugged close to her chest.

Professor Cornelius approached until he stood behind her, and looking over her shoulder his gaze alighted on the sight that had captivated Telria.

Caspian was in the courtyard, perched on the lip of the fountain, dark head bent in serious engrossment over a thin book. At his shoulder was his great destrier, saddled and ready, slurping from the fountain's cool water.

Telria was smiling softly at the sight and Cornelius sighed.

"What did you want to speak candidly to me about Telria?" he prompted quietly; the Professor sounding for once as old as he was. He tired quickly of these games; of attempting to puzzle out Telria's motives and seeing through her ploys, of having to decipher the truth from her vague words and cryptic warnings…trying and failing time and time again, not to see the little kitchen scrubber with rain-puddle eyes when she looked at him.

The soft, whimsical smile playing about Telria's lips as she watched Caspian in the courtyard, vanished swiftly.

"I wish to talk to you about Prince Caspian," Telria murmured. And for the first time in a long while Professor Cornelius got the distinct expression that Telria was wearing no polite mask of courtly civility hiding her real intentions.

But all the same, Professor Cornelius didn't allow himself to let his guard down just yet. He had promised a long time ago to always protect Caspian. Though it saddened the Professor immeasurably that such dark days were upon them, that he would have to protect the prince against a girl Caspian once considered his closest friend.

"What of Prince Caspian?" Cornelius prompted.

Telria easily identified the caution to the Professor's words and demeanour, and her grey eyes dulled, evident sadness entering them.

_You chose this yourself Telria,_ Professor Cornelius thought, though he felt no vindication over it, only a bone-wearing sadness.

"The time grows near when Prince Caspian will ascend to the throne and become King," Telria mused.

Professor Cornelius' guard was on high alert again as he warily eyed the girl before him; his former student, the prince's closest friend and Lord Miraz's most loyal servant.

For a moment Cornelius even feared that Telria somehow had found out the true content of the conversation between he and the blacksmith Alaya. Telria always had been intelligent and resourceful; it was what had made her an assiduous student over the years.

But for once Telria's renowned skills of shrewd observation were not being employed, as her grey eyes were drawn irrevocably to the courtyard below; a small furrow of consternation appearing between her dark brows.

"It is so," Professor Cornelius concurred.

An almost distressed expression claimed Telria's features then; her eyes softening to dove-grey as she watched Caspian. The young prince had tucked his book into one of the saddlebags on his steed and was currently swinging himself up onto the saddle with practiced ease.

A bright smile touched Caspian's lips at the prospect of an invigorating ride, as his horse nickered excitedly; almost as excited as its rider to be racing across open, green plains.

But knowing him as well as he did, and having seen the same fleeting expression a hundred times over every day, Professor Cornelius could easily identify the exact moment Caspian's thoughts changed. The prince's smile turned slightly melancholic as his dark eyes flitted for a split second to the _empty _space beside him, where once Telria would have been similarly mounted; challenge sparkling in her eyes as they prepared to race.

And sliding his eyes covertly to glance at Telria askance; the forlorn light burning in her entire expression was only too clear to see, as her blatant wish to be down there with Caspian was only too prevalent in her face.

"Do you think Prince Caspian will make a good, Telmarine King?" Telria asked, her eyes never once leaving the young prince, as he departed the courtyard with the clattering of galloping hooves on stone.

Telria sighed heavily, dragging her gaze away from the window, expression openly disquieted as she looked to her former Professor; any usual attempts at schooling her expression gone.

"I know Caspian will make a brilliant King," Professor Cornelius said with firm conviction then.

Telria was evidently not surprised by such an endorsement from the prince's tutor; but her eyes narrowed discerningly, as she noted the Professor's carefully chosen words.

"Do you think Caspian will make a good, _Telmarine King_?" Telria echoed meaningfully.

Professor Cornelius met Telria's gaze frankly; inhaling deeply as he bristled.

"Telria, don't insult both our intelligences. The questions you are asking me, you already know my answers without me having to voice them."

A small, sheepish smile ghosted across Telria's lips apologetically.

"I am sorry, Professor. It has been so long since I have truly spoken…candidly with anyone; that I find I am out of practice," Telria murmured with a wry smirk.

"It is not too late, Telria," Professor Cornelius replied quietly.

Telria's grey gaze snapped up to regard her old tutor; expression torn between outright terror and daring hope. But the expression dimmed swiftly; her eyes sharpened suddenly with tragedy held the Professor's gravely.

"It is Professor," she countered softly, "It is already far later than you think."

* * *

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	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter V**

Caspian felt rewardingly exhausted as he directed his horse towards the royal stables at a slow trot. He smiled as the sudden, errant thought cropped up in his mind; of the tales the Professor told him about horses that could talk.

"I bet you would ask for extra oats if you could talk, eh?" Caspian murmured jokingly as he dismounted, patting the stallion's strong neck appreciatively.

The horse nickered loudly, nudging Caspian's shoulder impatiently and Caspian chuckled.

"Alright! Where did you learn to be so pushy?" Caspian said laughingly as he walked over to the capacious stall marked with the royal sigil.

He stopped abruptly when he came face to face with a pair of grey eyes he had known for over a decade.

He had watched every emotion fill those grey orbs; watched them sparkle with joy like silver or turn to flinty ash during a duel. Or watched with deepening sadness, a steely look harden them over the years, as Telria grew closer in loyalty to his Uncle.

Caspian was snapped back to the present when the grey eyes before him blinked, crinkling at the corners with concern as they always had. For a split second the steely, distant look of constant alertness and suspicion faded; and it was Telria again, with her familiar, rain-puddle eyes staring up at him so expressively.

"My prince?"

Caspian swallowed tightly, hearing the same familiar voice; low and dulcet, coloured with slight concern.

"What do you want, Telria?" Caspian asked wearily, warily. Because he always had to be on alert with Telria. She could be fishing for information for his uncle.

A slight dusting of pink claimed Telria's high cheekbones as she averted her gaze down. Caspian could clearly see the unease in her tense posture.

But when she spoke again, she had consciously lightened her tone; though it didn't fool Caspian in the slightest. _I know you too well, Telria…that's why it hurts so much more when you do this._

"How was your ride?"

Caspian sighed, leaning heavily against the door of the stall as he absently scuffed his boot along the straw-strewn floor.

"Fine," he answered stiffly, wondering what errand of his uncle's she was attempting to complete now. "I stayed away from the forests if that is what you are here to find out," he added bitterly, making to brush past her.

Cool fingers with soldier's calluses reached out to grasp his arm before he could though. Caspian looked dumbly down at Telria's fingers curled around his wrist.

"Prince Caspian…_please_," Telria pleaded.

Caspian looked up at her, frowning warily. "Telria, I don't know what my uncle – "

"I'm not here for your uncle – I swear it," Telria added earnestly. But still, Caspian eyed her dubiously.

Hurt flashed across her expression briefly before she reined it in. A small, hopeful smile lighted her lips, "You said so yourself, my prince. I can never lie to you with much success. Am I lying now?"

Caspian sighed; able to identify immediately that Telria was telling the truth. But far from easing Caspian, it made him more eager to get away.

These rare, fleeting moments when for a few seconds or minutes he would have his friend back; his friend with those expressive, bright eyes and blinding grin in a smudged and dirtied face. Because when his friend would begin to fade again, carefully being restrained once more by Lord Miraz's loyal servant behind steely, calm composure – it hurt far too much. To have had her – _his friend, his Telria – _back for a few moments, and to watch her disappear again. He hated seeing what his Uncle Miraz had helped her become.

_You're so much better than this Telria._

"I'm tired, Telria. I just want to stable my horse before I go to my rooms," Caspian said, not looking at her as he gently, yet pointedly, tugged at his arm that Telria still held fast.

Telria looked down, a bitter smile curving her lips. _ I told the Professor it was far too late…_

"Of course," Telria agreed softly, apologetically, as her fingers slipped from Caspian's wrist. "Forgive me, my prince. I'll not delay you any longer."

Caspian looked around quickly to catch a glimpse of black hair as it disappeared around the corner.

"Telria!"

He had moved before he could help himself, and now Telria was looking to him expectantly; expression serenely composed once more.

"Is it important? What you wanted me for, I mean?"

Something burning dimly, flared to life in Telria's eyes.

"Extremely, my prince," she replied calmly.

Caspian held her grey eyes before nodding once minutely as though coming to a decision. He glanced about him, checking they were quite alone, as something daring stole through him. "Tonight – the tower?"

For a moment the familiar blinding grin nearly broke across Telria's lips. She marshalled the wild elation expertly though, her evident sheer relief restrained to the sparkling of her eyes.

"Tonight, my prince," she confirmed in a hushed voice, before a soft, teasing half-smirk touched her lips. "I promise not to scale the tower," she added.

Caspian snorted, rolling his eyes as he smirked ruefully. He held Telria's gaze for a moment longer. _It really is you Telria now, isn't it? _he thought.

And just before Telria turned to leave, he imagined he saw a knowing smile on her lips as though she had heard him, and was answering his silent hope.

The smile was still on Caspian's lips as returned to stabling his horse, even going so far as to give the grateful stallion an extra handful of oats before going to the pump outside.

As he was entering the stable once more, a leather bucket of fresh water for his horse in one hand, Caspian paused at another familiar stall.

Telria's usual steed was stabled with the rest of the army's horses in the general stables; an ashy grey mare, as calm as her mistress, looked back at Caspian with large, liquid eyes.

The smaller, swifter mare looked out of place, with the stalls on either side of her housing great war stallions that blasted great jets of air, and tossed their manes irritably.

Caspian ran a hand down the long, velvet nose as the horse nuzzled his palm affectionately.

"Do you think you might convince your mistress for a race, like old times?" Caspian murmured, as the horse stared back at him almost complicitously.

With a fond chuckle, Caspian returned to the more spacious royal stables to water his own patiently waiting horse.

It wasn't until Caspian was halfway to Professor Cornelius' study, that his mood faltered slightly, and he was sternly rebuking himself instead.

What was he doing? Allowing himself to lower his defences so carelessly! How did he know this wasn't just another ploy of Telria's? His uncle's schemes and plots were becoming more common and more elaborate, as the months had passed.

Caspian suspected it was more than likely due to his new cousin's impending arrival, and the fact that this year would see Caspian take to the throne, whether his uncle willed it or no.

It had seemed these past months though, as if his uncle did not want Caspian out of his sight for a second. Miraz wanted to know where his nephew was constantly, what he was doing, to whom was he speaking, what was being said…the constant surveillance was close to driving Caspian mad almost.

He had learnt to ignore it mostly; if his Uncle was so keen to listen to endless reports on how many times Professor Cornelius had to correct him on his constellations, then so be it. The bitter sting came with knowing, that most of the reports provided to his Uncle, came directly from Telria.

Caspian sighed quietly as he reached the Professor's study for his midday lesson.

He _was_ confident that it had really been Telria speaking to him back in the stables, not for his uncle's purposes, just Telria, his friend, but…

_It won't last long…it never does. By tomorrow she'll be what my Uncle has made her again. And I'll have lost my friend once more._

...

He hadn't meant to do it. Knew it was nostalgia and other blinding emotions like that clouding his judgement. But still, come nightfall, found Caspian up at the tower the Professor used for astronomy, his and Telria's box of childhood memories open on his knees.

He sieved through the contents; a smile waning and growing in prominence on his face with each new memory he unearthed.

Scraps of paper as they passed back and forth notes during Professor Cornelius' lessons, the first letter Telria had ever managed to pen when she became literate, Caspian's carved wooden soldiers…the two paper crowns they had crafted when only nine; a crown each for _King Caspian &amp; Queen Telria._

Caspian inhaled deeply, stars bright in the night sky above him.

His head snapped up as he heard the soft scuffing of boots climbing the stone staircase, and hurriedly Caspian scrambled to repack and replace the box to its original hiding place.

The door was opened marginally just as he was hefting the stone into place, and two silvery eyes blinked out at him from the darkness.

And then Telria stepped into the moonlight herself, soft wonder and surprise on her face.

"I did not think you would come," she confessed honestly.

Caspian shrugged sheepishly. She had that expression on her face she always used to have when they were younger. That complete look of utter reverence directed solely on him.

"I said I would," Caspian replied simply.

Telria's grin widened slightly, gently. "And my prince always keeps his word."

Caspian couldn't help but smirk, feeling the wary suspicion fall away from his shoulders, despite his mind's fervent warnings to stay alert.

"It's really _you,_ isn't it Telria?" Caspian said meaningfully.

Telria nodded, having understood his meaning innately. "Just me tonight – not your Uncle's business."

And then they shared similar bright grins, softly illuminated by the moonlight shining above the old astronomy tower.

Caspian turned his back on Telria to amble over to the wall, and he heard Telria close the door softly. Normally Caspian would try his hardest never to turn his back on Telria, or if he did, he would feel an uneasy prickling sensation along his spine as suspicion lanced through him, reminding him to be ever alert.

But tonight he was feeling careless. Recklessly so.

It had been a long time since he had had his friend Telria back. The longest stretch of loneliness…ever, since they had become friends many years before.

But Caspian had been expecting a return of his friend ever since the incident with Hel in the banquet hall.

Telria's loyalty usually wavered when his uncle demanded something of her that didn't sit comfortably with the former kitchen scrubber.

Telria's preoccupation, followed by her willingness to seek him out days later and her unprompted honesty…it was all the tell-tale signs that Telria was once more drifting from loyal servant of Lord Miraz, to friend of Prince Caspian.

Caspian smirked ruefully up at the stars. Inevitably he was annoyed at her. He spent a good part of his days angry and annoyed with Telria and her shifting loyalties. It annoyed him even more because he simply couldn't understand it.

Telria wasn't cruel or calculating like his uncle. She didn't like to see others suffer, and neither was she vengeful. And yet she had pledged her loyalty to Lord Miraz.

Caspian must have asked her _why_ as many times as there were stars in the night-sky by now. And each time her answer had been the same, _"You would not understand, my prince."_

Caspian had stopped asking her. Had stopped trying to understand her. Couldn't stop feeling hurt at the thought, no matter how hard he tried.

"How many constellations I wonder, can you remember correctly?" Telria teased lightly, attempting a gruff impersonation of Professor Cornelius.

Caspian snorted, rolling his eyes. "More than you I bet," he replied with a challenging grin.

Telria arched a cool brow, grey eyes bright. "Oh?" she said softly, "Is that a fact, my prince?"

"You disagree?"

"I'm merely remembering that it was _you_ who always had to copy from _my_ start charts, and not the other way around," Telria replied smoothly, eyes dancing with mischief.

"You were undoubtedly the more diligent scholar Telria, but I think I can best you when it comes to the stars," Caspian countered with a provoking grin.

Telria's eyes narrowed in challenge. "Very well, my prince. What's the ante?"

A little of the humour on Caspian's face sobered as he replied quietly. "You tell me the real reason we're here for tonight, Telria."

Telria's expression immediately fell; the sparkling silver of her eyes dulling, being locked behind honed walls.

Caspian pretended not to notice, as he gazed up at the stars again, fragile hope wavering within him. "Well? Do you accept?" he asked deceptively lightly.

There was a series of measured breaths during which Telria gathered her resolve, Caspian assumed. He was almost sure she was set to refuse when suddenly she spoke.

"Alright."

Caspian glanced at her askance, but Telria was already looking up at the stars; an unreadable expression on her face.

…

"You let me win," Caspian said accusingly as Telria looked down finally in defeat, a secretive smile playing about her lips.

"Did I?" she mused innocently.

Caspian rolled his eyes slightly. "Telria," he called knowingly.

Telria glanced up before grinning. "I was getting a crick in my neck staring up at the sky," she answered emphatically, "I did not wish to be here until the morn, when even the stars would abandon us!"

Caspian laughed, shaking his head in fond agreement, even as he raised a hand to massage the back of his neck.

"Does our wager still stand though?" Caspian asked shrewdly, "Or was that your motive in letting me win; to force an insupportable bet?"

Telria's grin lessened. "I told you it was only me tonight, and when have you ever known me not to uphold my end of any bargain once struck?"

Caspian smirked ruefully. "Well then – why are we here for?"

Telria heaved a weighted, despondent sigh as she leaned heavily against the wall opposite Caspian.

"You are to be King soon, Caspian," Telria remarked quietly and immediately Caspian was alert. It was rare occasions when Telria called him simply by his given name, rather than by her favoured term of address; _my prince._

"This is hardly new knowledge. The entire kingdom knows it, no matter how much my uncle may _appear_ to be King," Caspian remarked bitterly.

Telria took a rallying breath, before fixing her prince with devastatingly conflicted eyes. "Lord Miraz means to challenge you for the throne," Telria announced.

Caspian resolved not to appear even slightly moved by the news as he twisted his lips into a cynical smirk. "That too is nothing new. I'd even go as far to say that nearly the entire kingdom could have guessed at that as well," he replied sardonically.

Telria dropped her gaze hurriedly, a blush stealing into her cheeks.

"You will fight him for it," Telria said quietly, not looking up; the words a statement rather than a question.

Caspian glanced up at the stars, sighing lightly. This was the fight Professor Cornelius had been preparing him for, for years now.

"Of course," he answered.

Telria chanced a second's glance at him. "Silly question," she said ruefully as they shared similar, fleeting smirks.

"You'll support my uncle of course," Caspian remarked bitterly; hurt by the words far more than he would have liked to admit.

The hesitant pause before Telria's answer was common and Caspian was used to it. That wavering moment as Telria fought within herself before she chose a side.

But the moment stretched on as silence crept up on them below the star-strewn skies.

Caspian looked up, unable to keep the shock from his face.

"Telria?" he breathed, barely daring to hope.

Telria looked up at him with an anguished look. "I wish you wouldn't challenge Lord Miraz at all, Caspian," she confessed in raw honesty.

Caspian scoffed angrily, turning away from her as he raked a hand through his hair in rampant frustration.

"You want me to just stand aside and let my uncle take the throne that is rightfully mine – "

"I am afraid, Caspian."

She had cut across his incensed words before he could finish them. And her stark statement had rendered him completely undone as he turned once more to face her helplessly.

Telria…_afraid?_

Telria never admitted to being afraid. _Never. _It was something that had been drilled into her at the soldiers' barracks. The others had just been waiting for the slightest excuse to cast her out, and so she had had to be twice as tough as them. She couldn't waver once, not even for a second, or they would have pounced on her moment of weakness, like a predator hunting its prey will wait for the opportune moment.

Caspian had once admired her resilience, her determinacy and her bravery.

But here and now on this crumbling astronomy tower that stretched towards the star-littered heavens above, Telria looked none of those things. She wasn't her usual collected, composed self; imperturbable and with steely resolve.

She was…_afraid._

His friend was afraid.

And that thought speared through Caspian like a brilliant flash of lightning will pierce through the black, thunderous clouds.

Caspian surged forward instinctively and Telria was in his arms within seconds; clutching him as tightly as he clutched her.

The clean scent of soap with something decidedly feminine beneath, filled the air as he inhaled deeply.

"Has he threatened you?" Caspian was already speaking, expression dark as his thoughts turned darker still. "Has my uncle threatened to harm you if you don't support him in his bid for my throne?"

Telria was already shaking her head though, wispy strands of her hair that had escaped her usual braid, brushing against the skin of his throat with the movement.

"No," Telria stated firmly. "Lord Miraz hasn't threatened me." _Never in any explicit words anyway_, her thoughts added gravely.

Caspian held her out from him then gently, studying her face intently bathed in white moonlight.

"Then why are you afraid, Telria?"

Telria swallowed determinedly, dredging up the words. "I am afraid _for you_, my prince."

Caspian instinctively took a startled step back at Telria's unexpected words.

"For me?" he echoed disbelieving. "Why should you be afraid for me?"

"I don't know," Telria breathed, fingers curling into her palms at her sides.

"Telria? You can't just say you are afraid for me and then not tell me why."

"But I don't know why Caspian! I swear it. I just know that something is going to happen soon…something _bad."_

"Telria," Caspian began sternly. Despite his resolve, inkling, chilling tendrils of fear were curling around his heart, spiralling out through his body.

Why should Telria be so afraid? Why should she take him to the astronomy tower in the dead of night to tell him so? _Why was she helping him at all?_

"How can I trust you?" Caspian blurted out, out of habit.

Telria winced visibly and Caspian regretted letting the tactless words leave his mouth.

"Because you must," Telria enforced.

"Telria, this is all very vague. What – " Caspian's words ended abruptly as he heard it.

Footsteps.

Telria was immediately alert, slinking over to the astronomy tower door like a deadly shadow. She opened it barely a slit, face pressed closely to the narrow fissure, breathing shallow.

Caspian stood at her shoulder, barely daring to breathe likewise.

With gritted teeth Telria closed the door again, eyes like silver flashes in the dark.

"We must go, my prince," she murmured urgently, yet calmly. Telria rarely lost her composure, except when she was afraid.

But now her fear had fled; pushed back and locked away as the keen soldier in her, focused on the problem at hand.

"What is it?" Caspian asked, voice hushed and hand already reaching for the door.

Telria's hand shot out to stop him, fingers curling around his.

"We haven't the time, my prince," Telria said calmly, uncompromisingly; grey eyes holding his.

Caspian frowned, before both their gazes snapped to the door again as the sound of hushed voices could be heard.

Telria moved past him, unsheathing one of the numerous concealed knives she kept on her person at all times, to jam across the handle of the door.

She turned swiftly, face almost pale in the darkness.

"Trust me – _Caspian._"

Caspian frowned at Telria.

"You know you have some nerve to ask me that Telria," Caspian hissed.

Telria's serene expression never faltered as she held his eyes unflinchingly.

Then Caspian sighed in defeat and Telria darted past him. She reached for the familiar stone and Caspian frowned in irked puzzlement.

"Have you stowed a sword away in there with our treasure chest, for an impromptu duel?" Caspian muttered sardonically, as Telria heaved the familiar stone out with a grunt.

She didn't even spare him a glance as she immediately reached into the small cavern.

Caspian looked up sharply as he distinctly heard the sound of a door thudding shut and a locking deadbolt.

The door at the bottom of the flight of stone steps that spiralled down from this very tower, Caspian deduced grimly.

There was no way out now.

"Telria, what are you doing – " Caspian's words trailed off as Telria stood, having replaced the stone and with a length of rope looped over her shoulder.

"No swords my prince, just rope," she replied pertly, already striding towards the edge of the tower determinedly.

Telria's deft fingers flew nimbly in the moonlight, as she expertly secured the rope to the rusted hook embedded in the stone. It was meant to be used for keeping a mounted telescope steady for observing the stars.

But the voices and the steps were approaching now and they had no choice.

"My prince," Telria said urgently.

Caspian grasped the rope, perching himself on the edge of the stone and swinging his legs over the edge. He gritted his teeth as all he could see below him was unfathomable darkness; the shadow of the tower shrouding all below it from the moonlight's gentle beams.

"Telria, hurry up," Caspian snapped.

"Go!" Telria urged, "I do not trust this hook to hold us both. I will climb down after you."

They both whipped around as the door before them shuddered with a clattering bang as the persons on the other side of it, met with the resistance of Telria's lodged dagger.

"Go – Caspian!" Telria's cool breath washed across his face in a panicked exhale as she turned to him wide-eyed.

She was his uncle's most loyal confidante. She had betrayed, lied and played him countless times. _She was his friend._

"Telria, I'm not leaving you here; so stop trying to be so damn noble. We both know you aren't," Caspian said sternly.

Telria's eyes flashed like quicksilver for a fleeting moment. She even threw a brief glare at him; the kitchen scrubber with rain-puddle eyes surfacing for the first time in a long while.

"My prince, please move before I push you off this tower," Telria murmured, faultless composure fracturing as the door behind them was continuously pounded.

Muttered, dark curses were just distinguishable on the other side of the thick wood as it shuddered under the assault. Telria's dagger slipped precariously.

And Caspian barely had enough time to catch his breath as he suddenly felt the exhilaratingly terrifying feeling of falling, before he remembered the rope in his hands.

He crashed against the tower face jarringly, the hard angle of his shoulder absorbing most of the hit.

Caspian looked up wildly, to see Telria leaning over the edge, eyes fantastically bright in her pale face.

"Are you trying to kill me?!" Caspian hissed as he immediately started to climb down.

Telria grinned breathlessly, fleeting; her sheer relief palpable.

"If I had of wanted to kill you my prince, I would not have given you the rope before I pushed you," Telria answered.

A begrudging smirk touched Caspian's lips briefly, as he worked his way as speedily as he dared down the rope.

A cool wind blew and he could hear the rustling of a thousand trees in tandem as though the distant forest was speaking; rushing warnings in his ears as he grappled down this old astronomy tower.

But even louder and far more chilling than any warning, was the clatter of Telria's dagger as it finally came dislodged clattering onto the cold stone.

Caspian barely had the chance to glance up briefly, to see the fleeting shadow of Telria's braid cut through the air as she turned, and then there was the flash of a silver blade in her hand and the rope in his hands had gone slack.

Caspian plummeted through the darkness, the stars racing further above him with every second as the sound of clashing steel echoed through the night.

All too soon Caspian's plunging descent ended sharply as he crashed to the ground, legs crumpling beneath him as a spasm of agony ripped through his body at the pain of landing so harshly.

Through his pain his sights were instinctively snapped upwards towards the astronomy tower though, where he could still clearly hear the ring of clashing swords in the eerily silent night.

A sharp, all-too-familiar scream suddenly stabbed the darkness and Caspian's heart alike.

Then there was only silence.

…

"Caspian, what has happened?!" Professor Cornelius exclaimed aghast, as Caspian limped heavily into his tutor's chambers with as much speed as he could.

All tiredness and grumbling discontent about the unsociable hour evaporated from the Professor's mind, as Caspian slumped gratefully into a chair, face drawn tight with pain and breathing heavily from exertion.

"Caspian!" Professor Cornelius expelled in impatient frustration, eyes wide behind his half-moon spectacles as he distressingly took in the evident state of his prince.

Caspian raised a weary hand, silently beseeching the Professor to allow him to gain his breath first.

"I rushed here as fast as I could," Caspian panted out, "But my leg – " Caspian's words cut off with a grimace as he attempted to stretch out his right leg.

The Professor was already moving purposefully then about his chamber; not being a man to stand idle when presented with a crisis. And the Professor was sure that the current situation _did_ constitute a _crisis. _

_Alaya had warned him!_ the Professor thought ruefully, as the next time he passed his chamber door he pointedly locked the deadbolt, and for good measure, propped a nearby chair against it.

Caspian didn't even question his tutor's odd actions, considering he had just turned up at the Professor's door in the dead of night, evidently injured.

Both tutor and prince knew innately that Caspian wouldn't be leaving this room until morning broke. The castle would be crawling with spies; hidden dangers lurking in every shadowed niche. And an injured prince limping back to his chambers in the dead of night, would be far too conspicuous.

"Is anything broken?" the Professor asked pragmatically, as he turned his hands to concocting the herbal remedy, that's recipe had been passed down from his ancestors.

"No," Caspian answered, wincing as he shifted his right leg again. "I dropped quite a distance, but the earth was a lot softer than solid stone would have been."

The Professor frowned deeply at his young ward as he finished the effective pain relief remedy, and pointedly shoved it towards Caspian.

Caspian wrinkled his nose in distaste at the vile, viscous substance but knew better than to object, as he reluctantly raised the cup to his lips.

He determinedly threw back the horrid yet salubrious mixture, grimacing as he forced himself not to retch.

The Professor gave a curt nod of approval, when Caspian placed the empty cup down harshly with a repressed shudder.

"Now, tell me what has happened Caspian?"

Caspian looked up, eyes almost tortured for a moment.

"Telria," he said simply.

The Professor's expression immediately darkened. "Telria did this to you – "

"No Professor! We were at the astronomy tower – "

"Caspian, what have I told you about skulking around this palace at night? It is no longer safe for you!"

"And I am no longer a child to be sent to my chambers and tucked into bed with a fairytale!" Caspian replied a little piqued, the pain still flaring in his right leg shortening his temper.

Professor Cornelius blustered indignantly. "Indeed you are not, young prince – " the Professor began to agree, when Caspian cut across him impatiently.

"Professor, this is all beside the point!" Caspian expelled in frustration, before casting apologetic eyes on his tutor.

Caspian hung his head low, an imperceptible tremor running along his shoulders. "They took Telria," Caspian said hollowly.

Professor Cornelius's expression was grave as he sat heavily in the chair facing Caspian's, tugging pensively at his thick, white beard as a solemn silence fell upon them.

"They must have followed her. She wanted to tell me something important – "

"And did she?" Professor Cornelius interrupted keenly.

Caspian sighed irately, raking a hand agitatedly through his hair. "No and yes," he replied cryptically with a rueful grimace.

"Tonight is no time for riddles, my prince," Cornelius riposted sternly.

"She made vague, unhelpful warnings about being afraid for me – but she didn't actually tell me of _what_ I should fear," Caspian elaborated exasperatedly, a thoroughly miserable expression claiming his mien.

Professor Cornelius' bushy brows knitted together in serious thought. "Could it have been one of Telria's usual, cryptic warnings? Like leaving her bookmark in that tome of old tales."

Caspian shook his head immediately. "No," he denied with utmost certainty. He remembered how her voice had fractured when she had told him she was afraid, could still feel the ghosting touches of long, sure fingers clutching at him…could still see clearly her bright smile in the moonlight beneath a blanket of stars.

"No, she was truly afraid Professor. She admitted as much," Caspian said, wincing slightly as he shifted on his chair.

Professor Cornelius rose from his seat, eyes alight with firing thoughts as he moved across to the cold hearth, devoid of its usual cheery blaze this late into the night.

"And we both know well, that Telria is not one to take fright without ample reason," Professor Cornelius mused gravely.

Caspian craned his neck to better see, as Professor Cornelius stared hard at the cold cinders in the hearth as though they contained all the answers he needed.

"Professor?" Caspian called impatiently. "What are we to do about Telria?"

Professor Cornelius looked up slowly. "_Do?_" he echoed, frowning.

Caspian narrowed his eyes sharply, resolve strengthening through him as he forced himself to stand, ignoring the pain the action demanded.

"I am not leaving her Professor. She risked everything to meet with me tonight and warn me – "

"Precisely," Professor Cornelius interjected vehemently. "She risked much to do what she did, and your intervention now will only worsen the situation for her. Presently, the only accusation that can be levelled at Telria is that she was atop the astronomy tower tonight; and that is hardly something she can be punished for. But if you and I were to go barging into the dungeons tonight, it would be tantamount to an outright admittance that it was _you_ she was meeting with this night. For how would the Prince know Telria had been seized, when he is supposed to be snug in his bed, dreaming of fairytales?!" the wise Professor reasoned astutely.

Caspian scoffed bitterly as he dropped defeated once more into his chair, gritting his teeth against the pain.

"She didn't go willingly Professor," Caspian said in a strained whisper.

Caspian heard as Professor Cornelius sighed heavily behind him.

"I would expect no less. But you know they would not dare kill her. I no more like the thought of Telria spending a night in the dungeons than you Caspian. But she is strong; she always has been. She endured worse in the barracks as a soldier. She can more than survive a few, mere hours in a bleak cell."

"I know," Caspian conceded grimly, feeling no less comforted by the sound logic in the words.

"You should get some rest Caspian, there are a few hours yet before dawn," the Professor advised sagely, gruff concern audible in his words.

Caspian passed a hand across his eyes, lassitude weighing heavily on his weary lids. He knew a few hours' sleep would refresh him, and was equally aware that the Professor had incorporated into his renowned remedy, a herb that boasted soporific qualities.

But Caspian looked forlornly towards the window and the clear night sky outside instead.

"I can't," he said quietly. "I can't sleep while – " Caspian didn't finish his words, but the Professor's eyes were already knowing behind his polished half-moon glasses.

The Professor trundled about his room, gathering up his familiar pipe and paraphernalia before pulling up a more comfortable chair, he plonked himself obstinately in it.

Caspian's gaze slid over to his tutor, words readying on his lips to the effect that Professor Cornelius need not deprive himself of sleep, just to keep Caspian company in his nightly vigil.

However Professor Cornelius spoke over him before he could. "Young Prince, if you are about to order _me_ to bed, I will not be best amused."

Caspian snapped his mouth closed, a soft smirk tugging at his lips. The Professor peered over his glasses at him, eyes dancing with mischief and face bathed in a warm orange glow as he lit his pipe.

Caspian returned his gaze to the windows; the pale globe of the moon hanging solemnly in the night sky.

"Have you ever wondered Prince, why Telria swore fealty to Lord Miraz?"

Caspian looked to the Professor, a slight modicum of surprise widening his eyes at the question.

"Every day," Caspian answered immediately.

The Professor smiled enigmatically around the stem of his pipe, as he blew out another plume of curling grey smoke, allowing silence to fall once more for a few moments.

"Aye, I too," Professor Cornelius mused, "Though I think perhaps, I am beginning to understand."

But Caspian barely heard him; his dark gaze fixed outside on the inky firmament of the night sky bejewelled by a thousand stars, and fervently wishing the dawn would come and sweep them all away.

…

Like a stealthy hunter, sleep crept up on him and soon Caspian succumbed, chin dipping low as his eyes shut in defeat.

The Professor's remedy had lessened the pain in his leg and shoulder to a dull, persistent ache that Caspian could easily ignore. Telria had inflicted worse hurts on him when duelling.

But another less desired property of the ingested palliative, was while it was most effective in diminishing physical maladies, it served like a tonic to the mind.

As a result, Caspian's dreams were fantastically vivid as he slept fitfully in his uncomfortable chair.

The Professor's study was a comfortingly familiar setting for his dream; the sunlight streaming chimerically in through the open windows almost made the room seem like a golden haven.

Caspian frowned slightly though, as he glanced about him at the familiar furnishings and he realised how small he was in comparison.

He barely reached the Professor's grand desk, crowded with its usual scrolls and opened books depicting fabled scenes.

Realisation dawned on Caspian in one fell swoop as he deduced that he was only a boy again in this dream.

In his dream a sudden sense of trepidation came over him as he sensed that he was not alone in the study.

Caspian whirled but could see no one and yet the disquieting feeling persisted.

Then Caspian heard what sounded like soft susurrations coming from somewhere nearby. Caspian whipped his head around and identified the location from where the sounds were originating from. And furtively he crept over to the nearest towering bookcase and peeked around it.

Relief infiltrated through his tense limbs then as he recognised the dark tangle of unruly, unkempt hair, bent low in concentration over a huge tome.

It was a very surreal thing for Caspian to be caught in this half-dream and half-memory.

Telria looked up; customary grin sliding into place across her child's face. She could be no more than eight Caspian conjectured.

Caspian approached this younger Telria as though in a daze, sliding down to the floor to sit aside her.

Immediately Telria had thrust the tome promptly into his lap.

"Will you read it to me, my prince?" Telria inquired hopefully. And suddenly Caspian knew what memory his convoluted thoughts were throwing up at him.

The words had left his lips without thought, the exact ones he had said to Telria nine years ago when this had actually happened.

"Why can't you read it?"

Telria glared at him, small face crumpling as she heaved the tome back onto her own lap with a moody huff.

Caspian watched her grey eyes flicker uncomprehendingly over the pages, just as he had done years before.

"You can't read."

Telria frowned darkly at him as she chewed anxiously at her nails.

"Stop that," Caspian swatted her hand away from her mouth, before tugging the heavy tome back towards him so it rested on both their laps. He sent her a rueful look.

"Reading's really easy once you get the hang of it, you know," Caspian said with an encouraging grin, just as his eight year old self had done once.

Telria looked to him with quiet wonder. "Really?"

Caspian nodded enthusiastically, before he looked down at the pages splayed out before him. He smirked inwardly, feeling a little smug about Telria's reading choice, but he didn't comment on it, instead pointing at a word.

"Do you know what this says?"

Telria scrunched her face up in serious concentration, as though if she stared at the word long and hard enough, understanding may come.

She looked morosely at Caspian. "It just looks like a lot of funny squiggles to me…I'll never be able to read."

Caspian nudged her shoulder reproachfully. "Not if you give up so easily you won't," Caspian chided, before pointing again at the same word. "This word here – is my name. _Caspian._"

Telria glanced back down at the word with new eyes rounded in marvel, at the thought that the incomprehensible inky marks on the page before her actually meant something.

She ran a finger along the word reverently. "Caspian," she repeated slowly, then she looked up at him grinning impishly. "It doesn't look like I thought it would."

Caspian frowned in puzzlement. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"I thought your name would look messy like big squiggles because you're so messy," Telria said, gesticulating exaggeratedly to emphasise her point.

Caspian frowned. "That's not how it works, Telria," he said coolly.

Telria's grin never faltered as she looked back down at the page eagerly, eyes drinking in all the strange little glyphs.

"What's that one mean?" Telria said, pointing to another word, finger excitedly jabbing the page.

"Telmarine."

"And that one?"

"Narnia."

"What about this one? It looks weird."

"That's the page number, Telria."

Telria threw a brief, half-hearted glare at Caspian reproachfully, as he chuckled lightly and her expression softened.

"Can you read all of this?" Telria asked, looking up at Caspian with soft wonder.

Caspian smirked slightly as he cleared his throat pre-emptively. "During his reign King Caspian the Ninth was blessed with a son…"

Caspian woke with a violent start, the blanket the Professor had draped around him as he slipped into slumber, falling unnoticed to the floor.

Caspian raked a hand through his hair, blinking rapidly and breathing deeply as the last vestiges of the dream memory receded in his mind.

Abruptly Caspian's gaze was drawn to the windows then; opened wide allowing a soft breeze in.

The stars were gone and it was morning.

* * *

Of course a thousand apologies for the unforgivable delay. I wish I could promise to update regularly and swiftly, but I can't. I can only promise that I will try my utmost to get chapters posted as quickly as possible. RL is just pretty time-consuming, I'm afraid :P

Thanks for people's patience; reviews, words of encouragement, follows &amp; favourites. :D


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